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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3db7de8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64400 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64400) diff --git a/old/64400-0.txt b/old/64400-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2c160e1..0000000 --- a/old/64400-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6549 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Workers, by Walter A. (Walter Augustus) -Wyckoff - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Workers - An Experiment in Reality: The East - - -Author: Walter A. (Walter Augustus) Wyckoff - - - -Release Date: January 27, 2021 [eBook #64400] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKERS*** - - -E-text prepared by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 64400-h.htm or 64400-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/64400/64400-h/64400-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/64400/64400-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/workersexperimen00wyckiala - - - - - -THE WORKERS - - -[Illustration: WE BREATHE THE HOT AIR, HEAVY WITH THE SMELL OF FRESH -SOIL. AND THE SWEAT DRIPS FROM OUR FACES UPON THE DAMP CLAY.] - - -THE WORKERS - -An Experiment in Reality - -by - -WALTER A. WYCKOFF - -Assistant Professor of Political Economy in -Princeton University - -THE EAST - - - - - - -New York -Charles Scribner's Sons -1899 - -Copyright, 1897, by -Charles Scribner's Sons - -Trow Directory -Printing and Bookbinding Company -New York - - - - -TO - -CHANNING F. MEEK, ESQ. - - - - -PREFACE - - -The preface to a narrative like this must itself be of the nature of a -story which will account for the expedition here described, and make -clear the point of view from which the experiment was tried. - -Enough of the actual setting of the tale is implied in a passing -reference to a charming country-seat on Long Island Sound, and the -presence there of a fellow-guest, Mr. Channing F. Meek--a chance -acquaintance to me then. His wide knowledge of the West, his intimate -familiarity with practical affairs, and his catholic sympathy with -human nature, made him a man wholly new and interesting to me. And -in our talk, which drifted early into channels of social questions, -I could but feel increasingly the difference between my slender, -book-learned lore and his vital knowledge of men and the principles by -which they live and work. - -One radiant Sunday morning in midsummer there came to me from his -talk so strong a suggestion of the means of acquiring the practical -knowledge that I lacked, and in a way that gave promise of an -experiment so interesting, and of such high possibility of successful -treatment, that in that hour I knew that I was pledged to its -undertaking. - -No further disclosure of my _animus_ is needed than has already been -hinted at in the fact of a new, unoccupied, inviting field and the -fair prospect which its development offered to a student eager for a -place among original investigators. I cannot, however, sufficiently -acknowledge my indebtedness to the friends whose generous sympathy has -followed me throughout the enterprise--especially that friend already -mentioned. To him I owe the first idea of the plan and a large measure -of what success has attended its execution. - -The narrative form into which I have cast the results of my -investigation depends for its value solely upon careful adherence to -the truth of actual experience. This account is strictly accurate even -to details; apart from confessed changes in the names of the persons -introduced, no element of fiction has intentionally been allowed to -intrude. - -It only remains to say with reference to my attitude in the experiment -itself, that I entered upon it with no theories to establish and no -conscious preconceptions to maintain. As sincerely as I could, I -wished my mind to be _tabula rasa_ to new facts, and sensitive to the -impressions of actual experience. - -PRINCETON UNIVERSITY, October 27, 1897. - - - - -CONTENTS - - -CHAPTER I - PAGE -THE ADJUSTMENT, 1 - - -CHAPTER II - -A DAY-LABORER AT WEST POINT, 33 - - -CHAPTER III - -A HOTEL PORTER, 78 - - -CHAPTER IV - -A HIRED MAN AT AN ASYLUM, 108 - - -CHAPTER V - -A FARM HAND, 144 - - -CHAPTER VI - -IN A LOGGING CAMP, 179 - - -CHAPTER VII - -IN A LOGGING CAMP (_Concluded_), 225 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - -WE BREATHE THE HOT AIR, HEAVY WITH THE -SMELL OF FRESH SOIL, AND THE SWEAT -DRIPS FROM OUR FACES UPON THE DAMP -CLAY, _Frontispiece_ - - FACING - PAGE -I EASILY PASSED UNNOTICED IN THE CROWD, 24 - -A WEIRD PROCESSION, THIS FRAGMENT OF A -COMPANY IN THE RANKS OF LABOR, 48 - -I HELD MY PEACE, AND RESPECTFULLY -TOUCHED MY CAP, INWARDLY CALLING HER -THE BEAUTY THAT SHE WAS, 94 - -THE MEN WERE RISING FROM THEIR SEATS, -AND THE AIR WAS FULL OF WELCOME, 216 - - - - -THE WORKERS - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE ADJUSTMENT - - -HIGHLAND FALLS, N. Y., -Monday, July 27, 1891. - -The boss at the work on the old Academic building in West Point gave me -a job this morning, and ordered me to come to work to-morrow at seven -o'clock. A gang of laborers is fast removing the old building, which is -to give place to a new one. From one of the workmen I learned that the -men live in Highland Falls, a mile down the river, and so I came here -in search of a boarding-house. There was some difficulty in finding -quarters, for the place is crowded with workingmen attracted here by -the new buildings at the Post and work on the railway. - -Mrs. Flaherty has taken me in as a boarder. That is not her name, but -it sufficiently indicates her. She came to the door with the odor -of soap-suds and boiling cabbage strong upon her, and told me at -first that she guessed that she couldn't take me. She relented when I -explained that I had work at the Post; and, having admitted me as a -member of her household, she gave play to her natural hospitality. When -I was shown to a little carpetless room under the roof, with two double -beds in it, I spoke of needing water, and she showed me where I could -get a plentiful supply. I said that I should like to write, and she at -once invited me from the torrid heat of the attic to a place at her -dining-room table. - -Here then, in the temporary security of a boarding-house, and as an -assigned member of the industrial army, I can review the first week of -enlisted service. - -I am vastly ignorant of the labor problem, and am trying to learn by -experience; but I am so far familiar with Socialistic writings as to -know that, from their point of view, I have not gone from one economic -class into another. I belong to the proletariat, and from being one of -the intellectual proletarians, I am simply become a manual proletaire. -In other words, I no longer stand in the market ready to sell what -mental ability I have, I now bring to the market instead my physical -capacity for work; and I sell that at its market price. Expressed in -every-day language, the change is simply this: from earning a living as -a teacher, I have begun to earn it as an unskilled laborer. - -But, nevertheless, the change has in it elements of real contrast. -One week ago I shared the frictionless life of a country-seat. -Frictionless, I mean, in the movement of an elaborate system which -ministers luxuriously to the physical needs of life. Frictionless, -perhaps, only to those to whom it ministers. Now I am out of all that, -and am sharing instead the life of the humblest form of labor upon -which that superstructure rests. - -This is not a frictionless life in its adjustment to daily needs--very -much the reverse. And whatever may be its compensations, they are not -of the nature of easy physical existence. - -The actual step from the one manner of life to the other was sure of -its own interest. It was painful to say good-by on the last evening, -and there was enough of uncertainty in the prospect to account for -a shrinking from the first encounter with a strange life; but there -was promise of adventure, and almost a certainty of solid gain in -experience. - -At sunrise on the next morning I was ready to set out. I descended -quietly to the hall. The butler stood there, politely urging some -pretended necessity as excuse for so early an appearance, and he -invited me to breakfast. - -Often had he seen me off for a day's fishing or shooting in the old -suit which I wore, but I could feel his eye fixed upon me now with -perplexed interest. He had heard my expedition discussed at the table, -and in some vague way he took in that I meant to earn my living as a -workman. With his wonted dignity, he helped me adjust my pack and strap -it; and then he stood under the _porte cochère_, and watched me hurry -across the lawn in the direction of the highway. - -Two hours' walk carried me beyond the point of my acquaintance with -the country roads; but this presented no real difficulty, for I had -but to keep a steadily westward course. Other details of my expedition -were not so simple, and I began to have an uncomfortable sense of -unsuspected difficulty. I look back from the vantage-point of a -week's experience, with a feeling of amused tolerance, upon my naïve -preconceptions. It is like a retrospect of years. My notion of earning -a living by manual labor was the securing of an odd job whenever I -should need a meal or a night's lodging. Much advice had come my way -before I set out. As a means of access to people, I was told to take -with me a book or magazine, and to invite subscriptions. I adopted -this plan; and a copy of a magazine was under my arm as I walked on -through the dust and heat of the country road, wondering how long it -would take me to reach the Hudson, and how I should earn my first meal. - -There was nothing at all adventurous or exciting in a dusty walk. My -pack was taking on increments of weight with each mile of the journey. -I was beginning to feel conscious of change in unexpected ways. There -was no money in my pocket, and a most subtle and unmanning insecurity -laid hold of me as a result of that. The world had curiously changed -in its attitude, or rather I saw it at a new angle, and I felt the -change most keenly in the bearing of people. My good-morning was not -infrequently met by a vacant stare, and if I stopped to ask the way, -the conviction was forced upon me that, as a pack-pedler, I was a -suspicious character, with no claim upon common consideration. - -In the shade of his porch sat the keeper of a country store, at a fork -of the road. His chair was tilted against the outer wall, and his feet -rested upon the balustrade. My question as to the course of the two -roads before me was responded to by the merchant, first with a look, -and then a spurt of tobacco-juice, which stirred the dust between my -feet, and, finally, a caustic sentence to the effect that he 'did -not much know, and did not care a damn,' while his blue eyes swept -the horizon, and rested finally on the Sound, gleaming golden in the -morning sun, and the purple line of the Long Island shore. - -The new-born self-consciousness which I found asserting itself was like -a wound on the hand, exposed to constant injury. I had walked several -miles before I summoned courage to speak to anyone else. Finally, very -hot and thirsty, I knocked at the door of an unpainted cottage which -stood on the road. The door opened to the touch of an old woman, who -bent toward me in the emaciated angularity of a decrepit figure which -must once have been strikingly tall and vigorous. - -I asked leave to show her the magazine, and she invited me into the -cool of her home. The middle floor was covered with a yellow oil-cloth, -on which there stood a table. A large cooking-stove occupied one side -of the room. A few wooden-bottom chairs were ranged around the walls. -An old kitchen clock rested on the mantel-shelf; and on either side of -it hung a faded photograph, each in an oval wooden frame. - -The old woman asked me to draw up a chair to the table, and she sat -beside me, looking with the excited interest of a child at the pictures -which I showed her, but paying little heed, I thought, to what I was -saying. Presently, without warning, she veered mentally with the -facility of childhood, and now she was looking at me intently between -the eyes, while one long skeleton hand lay on the open page before her. - -"Be you a pedler?" she asked, and her eyes dilated to the measure of -the protruding sockets over which the yellow skin was tightly drawn. - -"I am trying to get subscribers for this magazine," I told her. - -"Was you raised in these parts?" - -My negative gave her the opening for which she was unconsciously -feeling. She was born and "raised" on that spot, and had lived there -for nearly eighty years, and she hastened to tell me so. There was -nothing voluble in the recital of her history, only a directness and -simplicity of speech and a certain quiet reserve which rendered the -narrative absorbing to us both. Some bond of sympathy began to make -itself felt, for she was dwelling on the losses of her life, and, quite -unconsciously, she wept as she told me of the death of one and another, -until not one of all her family or kindred was left to her, except her -grandson, with whom she now lived. She said no word of complaint; and, -in the presence of her human sorrows, she had no memory of poverty, -and of the bitter struggle against want which life had plainly been -for her. She was sobbing softly, with her head bent upon the table, -when she ceased speaking, and no comfort that I could offer her was -comparable to the relief that she felt in telling her story. When I -arose to go, she was breathing deeply, like a comforted child. - -For a stretch of several miles of country road I spurred myself to -knock at every door to which I came. My reception was curiously -uniform. I never got beyond the request for leave to show the magazine. -The reply was invariably a negative; sometimes polite, but always -emphatic. Once I did not get so far as that. A portly negress saw me -approaching her cottage from the road, and, standing strident on guard -before her door, she shouted to me across the meadow that nothing was -wanted there, and that I might save myself the walk. - -It was nearing noon, and I was very hungry. The question of earning -a meal was no longer an interesting speculation, but a pressing -necessity. I turned all my attention to that. A large iron gateway -leading into a cemetery attracted me. Several ragged, tow-headed -children were playing about the lodge. One of them told me that his -father was inside, and he indicated the general direction of the -tomb-stones. I found the digger sweating freely in a half-finished -grave, and instantly offered my help as a means of earning a dinner. -The grave-digger was an Irishman. He leaned at ease upon his spade, and -soberly looked me over, and then declined my offer. He was polite, but -not at all communicative, and he met my advances with the one remark -that his "old woman" was not at home. - -A little farther on, I saw three women in pursuit of a hen. I eagerly -volunteered my help, and asked for a dinner in payment. They quit the -chase, and stood confronting me with serious faces, while I eloquently -pleaded my readiness to help them. Nothing in the situation seemed to -strike them as strange or irregular, but they touched upon it with -short, grave speech, until I had the feeling of something momentous, -and I accepted their refusal with a sense of relief. - -At last, in the outskirts of the village of Westport, I found a man -mowing his lawn, and he was willing to give me a dinner for completing -the work. My final success in getting an odd job was a splendid -stimulus. I urged the mower over the lawn with a vigor that surprised -me, and the dinner which I ate in the dim corner of an immaculate -kitchen was a liberal return for the labor. - -All that long summer afternoon I went from house to house, asking -subscriptions for the magazine. The rack would have been easier upon -my feelings, but I was eager to discover some ready way of approaching -people. Not even the loafers at the station were in the least inclined -to share their company with me. At nightfall I earned, by sawing wood -for an hour, a supper and the right to sleep in an unused barn. - -When I awoke, in the early morning, I looked with bewilderment at -the dull gray light that shone between the parted boards and through -the rifts among the shingles. I came to myself with homesickness in -full possession of me, and my back aching from the pressure of that -intolerable pack. At the pump in the barn-yard I washed myself, and -sat down to eat a slice of cold meat and some pieces of bread which I -had saved from supper. An unfriendly collie watched me, and growled -threateningly until I won him over with a share of the breakfast. - -The village was muffled in a heavy, clinging fog. The buoyancy of -the previous morning was gone. It was with some difficulty that I -found the road which had been pointed out to me as the shortest cut -across country to the Hudson. I could not shake off the feeling of -homelessness and isolation; and, under its influence, the lot of the -farmers' boys, whom I met driving their carts to early market, appeared -infinitely to be desired. A life of any honest work which accounts for -one, and includes some human fellowship, and a reasonable certainty -of food and shelter, began to take on undreamed-of attractiveness, in -contrast with vagrancy. I felt outside of the true order of things, -and as having no contact with any vital current of the world. Perhaps -it was in some measure the Philistine in me asserting himself, in the -absence of his customary bath and hot coffee; for, as the fog lifted -and the sun appeared, I came upon a brook which I had only to follow a -hundred yards or more to a well-shaded pool, where the bath was soon -achieved, and I emerged feeling that a vagrant life, with some purpose -in it, was, after all, rather desirable. - -The morning was only fairly begun when I reached the village of Wilton, -eight miles from Westport. Already I was tired, and certain muscles of -the shoulders and back were in violent revolt. I left my pack at the -post-office. Passing up a street, which runs at right angles to the -one by which I entered the village, I presently knocked at the last of -a row of comfortable cottages. - -When the door opened I knew instinctively that the gentleman who stood -framed in it was the village pastor. I said that I was looking for -work. He asked me inside. I thought this a curious change of subject, -but willingly followed him into a dim sitting-room, fragrant of perfect -cleanliness. I explained that I was on my way to West Point in search -of work, but was without money, and so obliged to earn my living by -the way, and that I would gladly do anything that offered in payment -for bread and board. He questioned me closely, with an evident purpose -of drawing me out further, and then he abruptly offered me work on his -wood-pile, and appeared surprised at my instant agreement. - -The wood was green, and the saw, with which it had first to be cut -into proper lengths, was not sharp, and it was certainly not skilfully -handled. The work was hard, but at noon there was ready for me in the -shed, a dinner of beef, and potatoes, and slices of bread, which for -lightness and color were like flakes of snow, held by a band of crisp -brown crust. - -In the afternoon the minister interrupted my work with the request that -I would join him in the house, and he indicated where I could first -wash in the wood-shed. I steeled myself for a lecture on the evils of -vagrancy, with incidental references to drunkenness as its probable -cause in my case. Instead, I found the family seated for an early -"tea," and myself invited to a place at the table. I am bound to say -that I was rattled. I had expected a meal in the kitchen, and a bed in -common with the preacher's horse. - -Not the least curious position in which I have so far been placed, was -that which I occupied at the minister's board. His family, I shrewdly -suspect, did not share his hospitable feelings toward me, and I could -venture a guess that it was under protest from them that I took a seat -next to the minister's daughter. - -She was a pale, delicate girl, of seventeen, perhaps. Her short, brown -hair curled close to her head, and her dark eyes looked dimly at you -through huge spectacles. The light, crisp stuff in which she was -dressed seemed to create about her an atmosphere some degrees cooler -than that of the rest of the room. - -By way of beginning, I offered some fatuous commonplace about the -surrounding country. Instantly I realized that I was not to venture -upon a conversation that implied terms of social equality. The child -bristled with outraged dignity, and let fall in reply a sharp -monosyllable. Further conversation with her would have been highly -diverting, but not very considerate, and so I turned to my host, who -maintained through the meal the air of one who is on the defensive, but -who is sustained by the conviction of doing his duty. - -My sympathies were all with the girl. Her feeling was very natural--so -natural as to suggest the rather disturbing ideas with which Count -Tolstoi is again confronting us. It was a very practical application of -the teaching of brotherhood, that of asking a chance workman to a seat -at one's family table. But if ministering to Him is really, in part, -in such recognitions of the least of His brethren, the instinctive -shrinking of the girl brought up in a Christian home in the country was -a commentary on our drift from the simplicities of the Gospel. - -In the evening I went with the minister to a prayer-meeting in -his church. A handful of people sat at solemn intervals in the -audience-room. I was plainly the only common laborer among them. -The men appeared to be comfortable farmers, and there was a village -shopkeeper or two, while the women were clearly their wives and -daughters. - -In one of the agitating silences which fell upon the company after -the minister had declared the meeting open, I rose and took part; and -at the door, when the benediction had dismissed us, several of the men -spoke to me cordially. There was entire kindliness in their manner, and -they, perhaps, were not conscious of showing surprise in welcoming a -laborer to their meeting. - -That night the minister insisted upon my taking a bed in his house. I -pleaded an early start. He, too, was to be up early, and in the morning -I found him in the kitchen before me. On the table were bread and milk; -and as I ate I parried the somewhat searching questions of my host. - -My course from Wilton lay through Ridgefield and Salem and Golden's -Bridge, and then, crossing the line between Connecticut and New York, -it made directly for the Hudson River. - -This was no great distance; but in the early stages of the march I -was much delayed by rains. Driven to shelter, I found it usually in -a barn, or a shed under which were housed the farming implements. -Here is an example: From a sudden downpour of rain I ran to an open -barn. A farmer, whom I found there unhitching his horses, eyed me -suspiciously, and gave a halting assent to my request for shelter. -He soon left me alone. I tried to read, and could not. The dull day -was deeply depressing. Like the burden of a haunting sorrow the trial -of separation weighed upon me. It was not homesickness alone, but -added to that a feeling of isolation. Poverty, I had thought, would -at once bring me into vital contact with the very poor. Instead, it -had made me an object of unfailing distrust. The very poor I found -in an occasional cottage of a farm laborer, or some grotesquely -dilapidated hovel, swarming with negro life. But they were no more -hospitable to my approach than were the well-to-do farmers, and I -met not a single vagrant like myself in the course of my walk to the -Hudson. I was lonely with the loneliness of a castaway, and I climbed -into the hay-loft and fell asleep. Here, at least, was comfort; the -deep, dreamless sleep, to which I had long been a stranger, was making -gracious advances. When I awoke, the rain was past for the time, and -I resumed my journey, with a leaden sky overhead, and soft, clinging -mud under foot; but I was strangely refreshed, and walked on quite -enheartened. - -The intermittent rains interfered with my progress, and increased the -difficulty of finding chance work. Repeatedly I was offered a meal, but -denied the privilege of working for it. For twenty-four hours I went -hungry, and spent much of that time asleep in a hole which I burrowed -into a hay-stack. - -But under a brightening sky on Friday, I was given some wood to chop, -and the promise of a dinner in payment. - -The work was soon done, and to the dinner there was given an added -pleasure in the company of one of the two old women for whom I chopped -the wood. She sat at the table and talked to me. Perhaps she was -solicitous for her spoons. Certainly she was very entertaining. Her -dark calico dress fitted closely her thin figure; and she sat very -straight in her chair, with her hands folded in her lap, and her eyes -bright with gentle benignity. - -In all the farming region through which I have passed on my way to the -Hudson, I have been much impressed by an unlooked-for quality in the -intelligence of the people. The books, of which I now and then caught -glimpses in their homes, were often of a surprising range. On the -sitting-room table of one farm-house I noticed a Milton, and several -volumes of Emerson, and a copy of Stevenson's Essays, besides much -current literature. Not infrequently the conversation of these people -had in it a curious suggestion of cultivation, curious only because -a dainty choice of words, and the graceful turn of a phrase were -accompanied by habitual inaccuracies of speech. They have, for example, -their own forms of the verb "to be." "I be" and "You be" are invariable -in their common usage. I wondered whether the conventional forms which -they find in their reading did not strike them as oddly foreign. - -The prim little lady who sat near me through my dinner proved charming. -She showed no curiosity about my history, nor the least anxiety to -tell me hers. With an air of quiet self-possession she followed the -conversation into its natural channels, and sometimes followed it far; -for at one time she was describing for me, with admirable vividness, -the methods of irrigation in use in Colorado. But she consistently -made _done_ do duty for _did_, and she used, in some of her sentences, -negatives enough to satisfy the needs of negation in the purest of -Attic speech. - -One more incident of the tramp to the Hudson: Late on Friday afternoon -I was nearing Golden's Bridge, a village on the Harlem division of the -New York Central Railroad. My road lay over the hills of a rolling -farm-region. The fields of corn were radiant with sunlight reflected -from great drops of rain which rested on the nodding blades. In the -meadows was the rich sheen of the after-growth. Golden-rod and sumach -grew thick on the roadside, and half concealed the rails of the zigzag -fences. From the forest there came a breath of fragrant coolness. - -After sundown the twilight soon faded into dark. My efforts to secure -further work had been unsuccessful. Once I was nearing the ruin of a -little wooden cottage, on the porch of which sat a woman enjoying the -cool of the evening. Upon seeing me enter the gate she fled within, and -slammed the door; and I heard the key turn in the lock. I was growing -tired. The actual journey had not carried me far, but the long fast of -the previous day and the toilsome walking over soft roads had resulted -in exhaustion. Scarcely physical strength remained with which to move -farther, and I was ready to throw myself down, with infinite relief, -under any chance shelter, when I caught sight of the village lights not -a quarter of a mile beyond. - -I knocked at the first door on the street. A farmer's wife appeared, -and kindly offered to consult her husband on the subject of work. She -soon returned with a favorable reply, and invited me to follow her into -the kitchen. Carpetless as it was, and stained as to walls and ceiling, -and low, and dimly lighted, the shelter of that room was like softest -luxury. A pitcher of milk and some slices of bread were placed on the -table, and I ate ravenously. - -At one end of the table sat the farmer in his shirt-sleeves, with a -newspaper spread before him. He was in the midst of his haying, he -said, and had plenty of work, and was willing enough that I should join -the other men in the hay-field. The shed for the hands was full, so I -offered to go to the barn, and was soon fast asleep on the loose hay in -a stall. - -As the farmer and I walked to the barn, I had taken occasion to fortify -myself in the agreement regarding work. He was an old man, very hale -and hearty and genial, and he walked with a curiously stiff movement -of the legs, and with his feet nearly at right angles to the line of -progress. He set my mind at rest with the assurance that there would be -plenty of work for me, if the morning proved good. - -The morning was all that could be desired. I got up early, and went -to the kitchen, where an Irish maid-of-all-work gave me a bit of soap -and some water in a tin basin, with which to finish my preparation for -breakfast. She was a beautiful girl, large and awkward and ill-groomed; -but her features were strikingly handsome, and her clear, rich -complexion would of itself have constituted a claim to beauty, while -sprays of golden hair fell in effective curls about her forehead, and -heightened the charm of her deep-set Celtic blue eyes. I was drying -my face and hands on a coarse towel which hung on a roller near the -kitchen-door, and which was used in common by all of the hired men. -She watched me curiously. Presently she ventured an inquiry as to -whether "the boss" had given me "a job." I said that he had. "Her eyes -were homes" of deep concern, and in her voice was that note of pity so -effective in the Celtic accent. She was saying that my hands did not -look as though I was used to work. I was blushingly conscious that my -hands were against me, but she tactfully tried to relieve the situation -by supposing that I was a "tradesman." Then had to come the damaging -confession that I was not. But the other hired men now began to enter, -and we sat down to breakfast. - -A breakfast on a farm is not always the appetizing reality that the -inexperienced imagination paints. The cloth, in this case, was ragged, -and showed signs of long use since its last washing, and there were -no napkins. The service was repulsive in its hideous tastelessness. -Flies swarmed in the room, and crowded one another into our food. The -men were in their working clothes, coatless, sleeves rolled up, and -their begrimed shirts open at the neck. When our coffee was poured -out and handed to us, each used his own spoon in dipping sugar from a -bowl which was passed from hand to hand. The butter, in a half-melting -condition, and dark with imprisoned flies, was within reach of us all, -and each helped himself with his knife, and then used it in conveying -food to his mouth. This last feat I did not try. There was in it a -suggestion of necromancy, and I had doubts of my success. We ate in -silence, as though the gravity of the occasion was beyond speech. The -farmer did not appear until we had finished breakfast, and I waited at -the kitchen-door for orders from him. - -He came at last, kind and cordial as ever, but quite changed in purpose -regarding my going to work. He urged my confessed inexperience, and the -danger of exposure to the sun. I protested my willingness to assume -the risks, and begged to be allowed at least to work for what had been -given me. But he would not listen, and appeared to think that he set -matters right by assuring me repeatedly that to what I had received I -was "perfectly welcome." His wife gave me, at parting, some tracts, and -a religious newspaper, and in these I found presented, in somewhat -lurid light, the evil consequences of insobriety. - -Knowing that I was within walking distance of Garrisons-on-Hudson, -I resolved to reach that point before night. My letters had been -forwarded there, and my eagerness to get them was of a kind -unexperienced before. It was Saturday, and, late in the afternoon, I -reached Garrisons after a hard day's march. The heat was intense, and -although I walked but a little more than twenty miles, the effort of -carrying my pack was thoroughly exhausting. The woman in charge at the -post-office was in evident doubt about the safety of giving me so large -a packet of letters, but yielded at sight of others which I showed her, -and readily agreed to look after my pack until I should call for it. - -Between the station and the river was a tavern, and there I meant to -apply for work. As I neared the station platform, a train from New -York drew in. Something familiar in one of the passengers who alighted -put me on my guard. In a moment I recognized a fellow-guest at a -dinner-party of a few evenings before, and I remembered, with an odd -sense of another existence, that, over our coffee, on a broad veranda, -overlooking a harbor, bright with the night-lights of a squadron of -yachts, he had given me the benefit of an amazing familiarity with the -details of the recent baccarat scandal. My anxiety was needless, for I -easily passed unnoticed in the crowd. - -[Illustration: I EASILY PASSED UNNOTICED IN THE CROWD.] - -I walked on to the tavern. Its keeper was busy behind the bar when I -asked him for a job. He surprised me immensely with a ready promise of -work, and he asked me to wait until he could arrange matters. I went -into an adjoining room, and took out my letters. - -It was the pool-room, and the walls were hung with colored prints of -prize-fighters, with arms folded on their bare chests in a way that put -their biceps much in evidence. And there were pictures of race-horses -which had won distinction. An old, much-battered pool-table occupied -the middle of the room. Around the walls ran a rough wooden bench. -Dirt was everywhere conspicuous. The ceiling and walls were filthy. -The floor was bare and unswept, and there were accumulations of dust -about the table-legs and in the corners under the benches, which could -be accounted for only by a liberal allowance of time. The two small -windows, through which one could see the dismal tavern yard, apparently -had never been washed. - -I sat on a bench, and opened the letters. The dim past of my -"respectable" life began to brighten with increasing vividness. Quite -lost to present surroundings, I was suddenly recalled to them by the -appearance of the boss, who came with a cloth in hand, with which he -aimlessly dusted the table while he questioned me. I was so absorbed -in letters that, for a moment, I could not place myself, nor in the -least account for the situation. The keeper was asking me what I could -do. This was a natural question under the circumstances; but it took -me by surprise, and it staggered me. I covered my confusion with a -profession of willingness to be useful, and of a desire to work. The -boss, a coarse, blear-eyed, sensuous-looking man, eyed me doubtfully, -and suddenly concluded that he had no work for me. - -But I was wide awake now. I knew that the nearest farms were some miles -back in the country, and that, except at the tavern, I had slender -chance of food or shelter. I said that if there was work to be done, I -was eager to do it, and that if, after a trial, he found me incapable, -he could dismiss me at any moment. - -I fancied that I had gained my point, for he told me to follow him, as -he led the way into the kitchen. There we found the cook bending over a -range, in which the fire refused to burn. - -"Mrs. Murphy," said the boss, "here's a man I've hired to help Sam," -and then he turned sharply upon me with a "Damn you now, work! if you -know how to work!" - -My opportunity lay in the smouldering fire, so I hastened to the -wood-pile, and presently returned with an armful of fine wood which -insured a fire for dinner. - -Mrs. Murphy was a little, old, emaciated Irish woman, with her -thin white hair parted in the middle, smoothed back, and twisted -into a careless knot on her crown. Her face was wrinkled almost to -grotesqueness, and she had the passive air of one to whom can come no -surprises of joy or sorrow, as though the capacity for sensation were -gone, and life had reduced itself to mere existence. I watched for -opportunities of helping her, and she accepted the services as though -she had been accustomed to them always. - -She began to interest me deeply. I learned from her that Sam, whom I -was hired to help, was a scullion and stable boy. When she had nothing -further for me to do in the kitchen, I returned to the wood-pile, -and chopped industriously, hoping to give evidence of my fitness for -the place. In an hour or more the proprietor called me, intending, I -supposed, to give me a change of work; but, instead, he gave me a -quarter, and told me, not unkindly, but firmly, that he did not want me. - -The situation was discouraging. I had tramped some twenty miles through -dust and heat over a hilly country, and since the early morning I had -had nothing but a few apples to eat. Besides, it was fast growing dark, -and so too late to look for work on the farms back in the country. - -The immediate neighborhood is largely taken up with country-seats, -and I made repeated efforts to get work at the hands of a gardener. I -soon discovered that I was in a community where special provision is -made against my class. At the carriage gates I not infrequently found -a notice which warned me of the presence of dogs, and although the -dogs gave me no trouble, a lodge-keeper, or footman, or gardener, upon -learning my errand, was invariably seized with fervent anxiety for -getting me unnoticed out of the grounds. - -At nightfall I walked back to the tavern, and asked the proprietor -if I might sleep in his stables. To my surprise, he was exceedingly -friendly. He readily agreed to that, and, of his own accord, he invited -me to remain at the tavern over Sunday, and to take my meals in the -kitchen; and he added that, on Monday morning, he would give me some -work to do as compensation. - -Already I had made a friend of the cook, and she now received me -warmly. Perhaps it was her habitual good-nature, for she had the same -kindly manner toward the other men, Sam and the three Irish section -hands from the railway, who took their meals with her. More than ever I -was attracted to her. She cordially greeted the workmen as they entered -her hot, reeking, ill-lit kitchen, addressing them by affectionate -diminutives of their first names, as Johnnie and Jimmie and the like. -They clearly had a warm regard for her, and they respectfully lowered -their voices and said "ma'am" in addressing her. To be sure they swore -viciously in her presence; but then she swore, too, not ill-naturedly, -but simply as an habitual means of emphasizing her usual language. - -I watched her for some sign of ill-temper. In stifling quarters and -under exasperating inconveniences she toiled on at work far beyond her -strength, not patiently merely, but with the cheerfulness which is -always thoughtful of the comfort of others. - -In spite of fatigue, that night in the stable was not a restful one. -The air lay heavy and hot in the unventilated loft, and through the -night the horses, tortured by flies, stamped ceaselessly in their -stalls. About midnight two men came into the barn. I soon knew them -for bedless wanderers like myself, and I awaited them in the hay with -an interest that was lively. They did not climb to the loft, but lay -down in a wagon; and for an hour or more I heard their gruff voices in -antiphonal sentences replete with strange oaths. They were speaking in -low tones and not excitedly, but their speech seemed little else than -profanity. - -The heat and darkness intensified the quiet of the night. The -breathless stillness was broken only by the hoarse blasphemies below, -and the nervous stamping of the pestered brutes. I tried to shut out -the sounds, and at last fell asleep. - -In the early morning I awoke to a beautiful mid-summer Sunday, the -first of my vagrant life. Sam was whistling at his work in the stables -and the tramps were gone. I found a path behind the barn leading to a -point on the river-bank where I could bathe. - -The military cadets were out on Sunday parade, and the music of their -band was the summer morning itself, vocal in notes other than the songs -of birds, and the soft murmur of the river. The tents of the camp shone -spotlessly white on the bluffs above the water. Some of the buildings -were visible among the trees. The sheer approach to the Post and its -dark background of well-wooded highlands threw into strong relief its -commanding position. Among the hills to the north the river appears. -The immediate section of it might be a lake, girt with steep hills, -that are dense with infinite shades of green. About the Post the river -sweeps in a magnificent curve, and disappears among the hills to the -south. - -The few books that my pack contained made generous amends, on this -day of rest, for the weight which they had added to my load. After -breakfast I took one of them to a shaded corner of the church-yard, and -read there until the service hour, and then I slipped into a seat half -hidden by the baptismal font. - -In his sermon the rector contrasted the emasculated ideas of the -present with reference to God's judgment of sin, with the virile -thinking of the Middle Ages, expressed in such works of art as Dante's -Inferno, and Angelo's Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel. Earnestly -and eloquently he pleaded the reality of spiritual things to the minds -of men in those ages of belief, and then he solemnly urged a return to -the plain truths of inspiration, and to the teaching of the Church, -that "God cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance," and -that the punishment of unrepented evil is "eternal death." - -The church was well filled, and I looked it over with a quickened -interest. The sexton and I, so far as I could see, were the only -representatives of the poor. Outside were a number of coachmen and -grooms and nurse-maids; but these, it is likely, were of another -persuasion. Certainly they would have looked curiously out of place -to our Protestant eyes among that well-dressed, prosperous company. -I knew this body of worshippers at a glance; some of them I knew -personally. It was easy to follow them all in imagination to country -houses where the afternoon would be spent in what escape there offered -from the heat. On the next day would be begun again the round of -wholesome recreation and of social intercourse, relieved from the -formality of town life, which makes up the summer rest, and which -implies the leisure which is rendered possible only by the continuous -work of a multitude of the poor, who constitute the parts of intricate -social and domestic machinery. I seem to be dwelling upon a costly -immunity from physical labor. It was not this that appealed to me. -These worshippers had leisure, but they were far from being idle. My -personal acquaintance went far enough to recognize among them persons -whose lives are full of strenuous activity in channels of splendid -usefulness. It was the social cleavage which yawned to my vision from -the new point of view. The rich were there in the house of God, but not -the poor; and the very atmosphere of the place seemed to preclude the -presence of the poor. - -I had asked Sam to go to church with me. Sam had been watering the -horses, and now had an empty bucket in each hand and some tobacco in -his mouth. He stood still for a moment, regarding me intently, and -shifting the tobacco from one cheek to the other. Then he asked me with -much directness if I took him for a "dude." I said that I should then -go alone. "That way?" asked Sam, with an eye to my gear. "It is the -best that I can do," I explained. "Then go, and be fired for a bum," he -replied, as he moved on toward the pump. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -A DAY-LABORER AT WEST POINT - - -HIGHLAND FALLS, N. Y., -Monday, August 3, 1891. - -At three o'clock on Saturday afternoon I decided to quit work on -the old Academic building. I went up to the boss and told him of my -intention, as I had seen other men do, and was ordered into the office; -there, without a moment's delay, the timekeeper's books were consulted, -and No. 6 was paid the five dollars and eighty-five cents which were -due him. Five dollars are gone to Mrs. Flaherty for board; seventy-five -cents more will be owing to her to-morrow morning for another day, and -then I shall set out on the road with ten cents in my pocket. - -I had calculated upon a balance far in excess of that; for when I went -to work on Tuesday, five full working-days were before me, and, at a -wage of one dollar and sixty cents, they were to yield an income of -eight dollars. My reckoning left out the chance of rain. For three -days passing showers drove us to cover, and the "called time" was as -closely noted by the boss as it is by the referee in a foot-ball game; -only we were given no chance to make it up. - -Mrs. Flaherty's home has a real hold upon my affections. It is one -in my mind with the blessed interludes of rest which were brief -transitions from one æon of work to another. My acquaintance with the -household covers a period of incalculable time. Mrs. Flaherty wears -toward me now a motherly air of possession; and she wrinkles her brows -in perplexed protest when I tell her that I am going away in the -morning, with no knowledge of where I shall find another place; and -she wipes her mouth with the corner of her apron, and tells me, with -increasing emphasis, that I'd better stay by my job, and let her care -for me decently, and not go wandering about the country, and, as likely -as not, come to harm. - -Her husband is a painter, a little round man with red hair and high -spirits, who is a well-preserved veteran of the Civil War, and very -fond of telling you of his life as a "recruitie." - -Minnie is their daughter. She inherits her father's hair, and gives -promise of his rotundity. But just now Minnie is fifteen, and the world -is a very interesting and exciting place. She took her first communion -last Easter, and still wears her confirmation dress on Sundays, and -is really pretty in a blushing effort to look unconscious when Charlie -McCarthy calls. - -Charles appears regularly on Sunday afternoons, I gather. He is a -driver for an ice-dealer, is not much older than Minnie, and is very -proud of a light-gray suit and a pair of highly polished brown boots. - -Tom is Minnie's only brother. He is a stoker on a river-boat, and can -spend only his Sundays at home. Tom is a little past his majority, and -takes himself very seriously as a man. He tells you frankly that he -is earning "big money," and is anxious that you shall not escape the -knowledge that he is a libertine. - -The child that he is came comically to the surface last night, with no -least regard for the newly found dignity of manhood. Tom shares one of -the beds in my room, and in the middle of the night he came bounding -to the floor in a nightmare, and running to the door began pounding -it with both hands, and screaming, "Papa! Papa!" like a child in a -paroxysm of fear. He soon woke himself, and then he slunk into bed and -was surly with us as we crowded about him, eager to know the cause of -this violent awaking. - -Jerry and Pete and Jim and Tom Wilson and I are the boarders. Wilson's -is the only surname that I know. Surnames are little in use on this -level of society; they smack of a certain formality like that which -attaches to Sunday clothes. We were all sitting on the porch after -supper on my first evening, and I knew that the men were taking my -measure. Jerry broke the silence with an abrupt inquiry after my name. -I responded with my surname. Jerry took his pipe from his mouth, and -turned to me with some warmth: "That's not what I want to know. What's -your first name? What's a man to call you?" "Oh, call me John," I said, -with sudden inspiration, and I have passed as "John" accordingly. - -Wilson and I worked together at unskilled labor, and we have a bed in -common; and it was during a night of fearful heat, when neither of us -could sleep, that Wilson, in a burst of confidence, told me his full -name. - -I had noticed him as a new-comer on the works on Wednesday morning. -He accepted the job with alacrity, and, in spite of evident physical -weakness, he went to work with feverish energy. At noon hour we shared -a dinner, and he told me that he had slept in the open for three nights -running, and had had nothing to eat since the previous noon. I referred -him to Mrs. Flaherty, and at supper I found him at a place at her -table. - -It was that night that he gave me his confidence. Two years ago he -came to America from the north of Ireland. From the first he had -found it hard to get work, and he had never kept a job long. This was -chiefly due, he said, to his having been brought up to the work in the -linen-mills, and to the difficulty that he found in adapting himself to -any other. And now his narrative suddenly glowed with active personal -interest, for, with each succeeding sentence about his apprenticeship -in Lurgan, there rose into clearer memory visions of a charming -fortnight once spent at the home of the owners of the mill. - -I have set for myself to-day the task of describing the past week of -actual service in the ranks of the industrial army. My pen runs wide -of the subject, and I have to force it to the retrospect. There were -five working-days of nine hours and a quarter each, less the "called -time" eaten out by the rain. Never was there clearer proof of the -pure relativity of time measured by an artificial standard. Hours had -no meaning; there were simply ages of physical torture, and short -intervals when the physical reaction was an ecstasy. - -We were called at six on Tuesday morning; and at twenty minutes to -seven we had breakfasted, and were ready to start for the works, each -with his dinner folded in a piece of newspaper. Passing from our side -street to the road which leads to the Post, we were at once merged in a -throng of workingmen moving in our direction. - -I was suddenly aware of a novel impression of individuality. Gangs of -workingmen, as I recalled them, were uniform effects in earth-stained -jeans and rugged countenances, rough with a varying growth of stubborn -beard. To have distinguished among them would have seemed like -distinguishing among a crowd of Chinese. Now individuality began to -appear in its vital separateness, and to awaken the sense of infinite -individual sensation, from which we instinctively shrink as we do from -the thought of unbroken continuity of consciousness. - -But my eyes were growing sensitive to other differences, certainly -to the broad distinction between skilled and unskilled workmen. Many -orders of labor were represented--masons and carpenters and bricklayers -and plasterers, besides unskilled laborers. An evident superiority -in intelligence, accompanied by a certain indefinable superiority in -dress, was the general mark of skilled labor. And then the class of -unskilled workers was noticeably heterogeneous in composition, while -many of the other class were plainly of American birth. - -It is a mile from Highland Falls to West Point, and we moved briskly. -There was little conversation among the men. Most of them had taken off -their coats, and with these over their arms and their dinner-pails in -hand, they walked in silence, with their eyes on the road. The morning -was sultry and overhung with heavy clouds, full of the promise of rain. -A forest lines much of the road, and from the overhanging boughs fell -great drops of dew, dotting the surface of soft dust. The wayside weeds -and bushes were gray with a coating of dust, and seemed to cry out in -the still, hot air for the suspended rain. - -The old Academic building stood near to the Mess Hall at the southern -end of the Post. In process of removal one wing had been blown up by -dynamite, I was told, and now its site lay deep in heaps of débris. It -was here that one gang of laborers was employed, and it was with them -that the boss had instantly given me a job upon my application on the -previous morning. - -There were about sixty men in the company. Most of them stood grouped -among the ruins, ready to begin work on the hour. I had but to -follow their example. I hung my coat, with my dinner in one pocket, -on a neighboring fence, and brought a shovel from the tool-house, and -joined the other men. We stood silent, like a company at attention. -The teamsters drove up with their carts, and the bosses counted them. -In another moment the head boss, who had been keeping his eye on his -watch, shut the case with a sharp metallic click, and shouted "Turn -out!" in stentorian tones. - -The effect was magical. The scene changed on the instant from one of -quiet to one of noisy activity. Men were loosening the ruined mass with -their picks, and urging their crow-bars between the blocks of stone, -and shovelling the finer refuse into the carts, and loading the coarser -fragments with their hands. The gang-boss, mounted upon a section of -wall, began to direct the work before him. A cart had been driven -among the ruins, and he called three of us to load it with the jagged -masonry that lay heaped about it. It was too coarse to be handled with -shovels, and we went at it with our hands. They were soon bleeding from -contact with the sharp edges of rock; but the dust acted as a styptic -and helped vastly in the hardening process. When the cart was loaded, -another took its place, and then a third and a fourth. - -In a harsh, resonant voice the boss was shouting his orders over our -heads, to the farthermost portion of the works. His short, thickset, -muscular figure seemed rooted to the masonry on which he stood. The -mingled shrewdness and brute strength of his hard face marked him as a -product of natural selection for the place that he filled. His restless -gray eyes were everywhere at once, and his whole personality was tense -with a compelling physical energy. If the work slackened in any portion -of the ruins, his voice took on a vibrant quality as he raised it to -the shout of "Now, boys, at it there!" and then a lash of stinging -oaths. You could feel a quickening of muscular force among the men, -like the show of eager industry in a section of a school-room that has -fallen suddenly under the master's questioning eye. - -In the dust which rose from the débris I picked up a mass of heavy -plaster, and, before detecting my mistake, I tossed it into the cart. -But the boss had seen the action, and instantly noticed the error, -and now all his attention was directed upon me. In short, incisive -sentences, ringing with malediction, he cursed me for an ignoramus and -threatened me with discharge. I could feel the amused side-glances of -the men, and could hear their muffled laughter. - -At last all the carts were loaded and driven away, and until their -return, some of us were set at assorting the débris--throwing the -splintered laths and bricks and fragments of stone and plaster into -separate heaps. The work compelled a stooping posture, and the pain of -lacerated fingers was as nothing compared with the agony of muscles -cramped and forced to unaccustomed use. - -A business-like young fellow, with the air of a clerk, now began -to move among the men, and they showed the keenest interest in his -approach. I heard them speak of him as the "timekeeper," but I had no -knowledge of such a functionary, and I wondered whether he had any -business with me. He hailed me with a brisk "What is your number?" I -looked at him in surprise. "He's a new hand," shouted the boss from his -elevation. "What's your name?" asked the timekeeper, as he turned a -page in his book. I told him, and when he had written it he drew from -his pocket a brass disk, upon which was stamped the number six, and -this he told me to wear, suspended by its string, and to show it to him -as often as he made his rounds. - -The cartmen had reappeared and received their loads, and had again -driven off, in long procession, in the direction of Highland Falls. -We went back to the varied torture of assorting. But the pain was -not purely physical. The work was too mechanical to require close -attention, and yet too exhausting to admit of mental effort. I did not -know how to prevent my mind from preying upon itself. - -At last I hit upon a plan which appealed to me. I simply went back in -imagination to the familiar country-seat, and followed the morning -through a likely course. We met at breakfast, and complained of the -discomfort of the sultry day as we discussed our plans, and then we -walked over the lawn to the pier. Two cruising sloops, that had waited -in the hope of a freshening breeze, now weighed anchor, and under -main-sail and top-sail and jib drifted slowly out of the harbor. We -watched them in idle curiosity, wondering at the distinctness with -which the conversation of the yachtsmen came back to us across the oily -placidity of still water, until they seemed almost half way to the -spindle, and then we agreed upon a morning ride. We telephoned to the -stables, and before we were ready the horses stood restless under the -_porte-cochère_. Step by step I followed our progress along the road -that skirts the inlet, and across the crumbling bridge on the turnpike, -and under the great, drooping elms which line the village-street in -Fairfield, and up the long ascent of the Greenfield Hill to the old -church, and then home by the "back road." The dogs came running at us -from the stables with short, sharp barks of welcome as we cantered -past, and we called to them by name. As we turned by the reservoir, we -could see a groom running down the path in order to reach the house -before us. Hot from the ride, we passed through the dim mystery of -the hall and billiard-room and den, and out upon the veranda, where -a breath of air was stirring, and the fountain played softly in its -bed of vines and flowers. Louis had returned from market. Our letters -lay in order on the settle, and near them, neatly folded, were the -morning papers. And now Louis's approach was heralded by the tinkling -of ice against the glass of bumpers of cooling drinks, and his bow was -accompanied with a polite reminder that luncheon would be served in -half an hour. - -I had been working with all my strength. Now I looked up at the boss -in some hope of a sign of the noon hour. There was none. Painfully I -went back to the work. Again I tried to find diversion in this new -device. Slowly, with double the needed time for each event, I followed -the morning through another imaginary series. Now I was sure that the -boss had made a mistake and had lost track of the time, and was working -us far into the afternoon. The clouds had thickened, and the growing -darkness I was certain was the coming night. Great drops of rain began -to fall, but the men paid them no heed. Soon the drops quickened to -a shower, and still the men worked on. The moisture from within and -without had made us wringing wet when the boss ordered us to quit. We -bolted for our coats and dinner-pails, and then huddled in the shelter -of the still-standing walls of the ruin. Through one of the great -doorways I caught sight of the tower of a neighboring building with a -clock in it. It was twenty minutes to nine! In all that eternity since -we began to load the first cart, we had been working one hour and forty -minutes, and had each earned about twenty-nine cents. - -The rain cost us an hour of working-time, and then we went back, and -found some relief from the earlier discomfort in the saturation which -had thoroughly settled the dust. - -In another hour, with no freshening of the air, the clouds faded out of -the sky. The sun shone full upon us, and there arose from the heaps of -ruin a mist heavy with the smell of damp plaster. But I had my "second -wind" at last, and I worked now with the feeling of some reserve of -physical strength. It was with surprise that I heard the loud voice of -the head boss in a shout of "Time's up!" and almost before I knew what -had happened the men were seated on the ground, in the shadows of the -walls, eating their dinners. - -I opened mine with much curiosity. There were two huge sandwiches, -with slices of corned beef between the bread, and a bit of cheese and -a piece of apple-pie, very damp and oozing. Among the other men, with -my aching back pressed against the wall, I sat and ate my dinner, -lingering over the last crumbs like a child with some rare dainty. - -At the end of the forty-five minutes allowed to us at noon, there -came again, from the head boss, the order to "Turn out." In a moment -the scene of the morning was renewed. There was the same alternation -between loading the carts and assorting the débris. - -We had been but a few minutes at work when the cadets went marching -past, on their way to mess. Familiar as most of the men were with -the sight, they seized eagerly upon the diversion that it offered. -The boss relaxed his vigilance. The work visibly slackened, as we -lent ourselves to the fascination of individual motion merged into -perfect harmony of collective movement. Conspicuous in the rear was -the awkward squad, very hot in its effort to walk erect, and keep its -shoulders back and its little fingers on the seams of its trousers. The -men laughed merrily at the comical contrast between such grotesquely -strenuous efforts at conformity and the ease and strength and grace of -the unison which preceded it. - -No rain came to give us breathing-space in the afternoon. Hour by hour -the relentless work went on. The sun had soon absorbed the last drop -of the morning rain, and now the ruins lay burning hot under our feet. -The air quivered in the heat reflected from the stone and plaster about -us; the fine lime-dust choked our breathing as we shovelled the refuse -into the carts. You could hear the muttered oaths of the men, as they -swore softly in many tongues at the boss, and cursed him for a brute. -But ceaselessly the work went on. We worked as though possessed by a -curious numbness that kept us half-unconscious of the straining effort, -which had become mechanical, until we were brought to by some spasm of -strained muscles. - -But five o'clock came at last, and with it, on the second, the loud -"Time's up!" of the head boss. You could see men fairly check a tool -in its downward stroke, in their eagerness not to exceed the time -by an instant. In two minutes the tools were housed and the works -deserted, and the men were running like school-boys, with a clatter of -dinner-pails, in a competitive scramble for seats in the dump-carts, -which were moving toward Highland Falls. - -The hindmost were left to walk the mile to their lodgings. I fell in -with two old Irishmen, who noticed me with a friendly look, and then -went on with their conversation, paying me no further heed. But I felt -strangely at home with these old men. Their short, faltering steps -exactly suited my own, and I comfortably bent my back to the angle of -their stoop, not in an effort to simulate their figures, but because to -stand erect cost me exquisite agony. - -The men in the carts were soon out of our sight, but the remnant was -large and was thoroughly representative. We formed a weird procession, -this fragment of a company in the ranks of labor. There were few -native-born Americans, one or two perhaps, besides myself; but there -were Irish and Scandinavians and Hungarians and Italians and negroes. - -[Illustration: A WEIRD PROCESSION, THIS FRAGMENT OF A COMPANY IN THE -RANKS OF LABOR] - -As a physical exertion, walking was not hard after our day's labor. -It was a change and a rest, and we must all have felt the soothing -refreshment in the breath of cool air which was moving down the river, -and in the soft light of the early evening, which brought out in new -loveliness the curves of the opposite hills and deepened the shades of -blue and green. My own appreciation of all this and more would have -been livelier but for two overpowering appetites, which were asserting -themselves with unsuspected strength. I was hungry, not with the hunger -which comes from a day's shooting, and which whets your appetite to -the point of nice discriminations in an epicure's dinner, but with a -ravenous hunger which fits you to fight like a beast for your food, and -to eat it raw in brutal haste for gratification. But more than hungry, -I was thirsty. Cold water had been in abundant supply at the works, and -we drank as often and as freely as we chose. But water had long since -ceased to satisfy. My mouth and throat were burning with the action of -the lime-dust, and the physical craving for something to quench that -strange thirst was an almost overmastering passion. I knew of no drink -quite strong enough. I have never tasted gin, but I remembered in one -of Froude's essays a reference to it as much in use among working-men, -and as being seasoned to their taste by a dash of vitriol, and eagerly -I longed for that. - -Half-way down the road we met some young women in smart dog-carts -driving to the sunset parade at the post. In the delicate fabric and -color of summer dress they seemed to us the embodiment of the cool of -the evening. Suddenly I looked with a keener interest. With her fingers -outstretched she was shading her eyes from the horizontal rays of the -setting sun, and she did not see us, rather saw through us, as through -something transparent, the familiar objects on the roadside. I had -seen her last in town at a wedding at St. Thomas's, and fate unkindly -sent her up the aisle on the arm of another usher. I laughed aloud, -a short, harsh laugh, that escaped me before I was aware, and that -had in it so odd a quality that it gave me an uncomfortable feeling -of unacquaintance with myself. The two old Irishmen turned inquiring -glances at me, and appeared disturbed at my serious look. - -My room, when I reached it, was, in spite of wide-opened windows, like -Nero's bath at Baiæ. The ceiling and walls glowed with stored-up heat. -Jim was there making ready for supper, and I could hear Jerry and Pete -in their room in similar preparation. - -When I put my hands into the cold water, I could scarcely feel them; -but the pain of cleansing grew sharp, and yet, when I had thoroughly -washed them, although the fingers felt double their normal size, they -were really less swollen, and were far on the way to comfort. - -The reaction had set in now, and I could feel it in great, cooling -waves of physical well-being. The table was heaped with supper, huge -slices of juicy sirloin, and dishes of boiled potatoes and cabbage and -beans, from which the steam rose in fragrant clouds. By each plate was -a large cup of tea, so strong and hot that it bit like lye, and it soon -washed away the burning lime-dust. - -We sat down with our coats and waistcoats off. The men were in the best -of good-humor, and the conversation ran into friendly talk. They asked -me how I liked my job. I thought much better of it by this time, and I -tried to wear the air of critical content. They may have had their own -notions about my previous experience of manual labor, but certainly -they did not obtrude these with any show of suspicion. They accepted me -as a working-man on perfectly natural terms. Until Wilson came I was -the only unskilled laborer among them, but my different grade was no -barrier to our intercourse, and we met and talked with the freedom of -men whose experience is innocent of conventional restraints. - -Long after supper we sat on the porch, smoking in the twilight. A deep -physical comfortableness possessed us. Each mouthful of meat and drink -had wrought miraculous healing, and had restored wasted energy in -measures that could be felt. My muscles were sore, but the very pain -turned to pleasure in the ease of relaxation. - -The men were town artisans, skilled laborers, attracted here by the -abundance of work. Jerry was a plasterer, and Pete a bricklayer, and -Jim a stone-mason. A short, slender figure, a smooth-shaven face -with small, sharp, regular features, black hair, and gray eyes, is a -sufficient outline of Jerry's personality. His air was that of a cynic, -and there was a cynical flavor in his speech, but the sting of it was -gone at the sight of his soft gray eyes, full of generous reserve of -human kindness. - -Pete was a well-set-up young fellow, of twenty-five, perhaps, plainly -of German parentage. Like Jerry, he was smooth-shaven, and there was a -striking contrast between his dark hair and his singularly fair skin -and blue eyes. He was a bricklayer, and ambitious of promotion. He -spoke hopefully of an appointment in the Navy Yard as a result of a -recent examination. - -Jim was the only married man among us. His wife and three children -were in Brooklyn, and Jim went home every Saturday night, and spent -Sunday with them. He was a handsome young Scotsman, with curling brown -hair, and brown eyes, and a well-formed mustache, and a round face with -full features. In the casual flow of our talk, Jim spoke of Burns, and -quoted him with a ready familiarity. It was easy to catch the drift of -his liking. Its set was steadily toward passages which sing the wrongs -and oppression of the poor. Jim had none of the tricks of a declaimer; -but with jerks of unstudied emphasis he repeated familiar lines until -you were conscious of new meaning and strength. He was sitting with his -chair tilted against the wall, and his heels resting on a round, and -his hands clasped about his knees. His eyes were fixed upon the evening -gloom as he recited: - - - Man's inhumanity to man - Makes countless thousands mourn. - - -The verses seemed exactly to fit his mood, for he repeated them again -and again, with lingering liking for their sense and alliteration. - -Jerry broke in abruptly here with sudden, unmeasured condemnation -of the dulness of evenings in a country town in the absence of the -theatre, pronounced theátre. The drama had fired his imagination for -the moment, for he broke through his wonted reserve and waxed fluent as -he expressed his views: - -"When I go to the theátre, I go to laugh. I want to see pretty girls -and lots of them, and I want to see them dance. I want songs as I can -understand the words of, and lots of jokes, and horse-play. You don't -get me to the theátre to see no show got up by Shakespeare, nor any -of them fellows as lived two thousand years ago. What did they know -about us fellows as is living now? Pete, you mind that Tim Healy in the -union, him that's full of wind in the meetings? Onct he give me a book -to read, and he says it's a theátre piece wrote by Shakespeare, and the -best there was. I read more'n an hour on that piece, and I'm damned if -there was a joke into it, nor any sense neither." - -We were presently yawning under the stars, and I was more than -glad when the men spoke of bed. Almost in the next moment, to my -consciousness, Mrs. Flaherty was knocking on the door, bidding us wake -and not to go to sleep again, for it was six o'clock. - -Of the five, this second day was the hardest. My body was sore in -every part when I began to work, and the help of hardening muscles I -did not gain until the third day. Mrs. Flaherty had skilfully bound -up the slight wounds on my fingers. The merciful rain came twice to -our relief, once in the morning and again in the afternoon. But this -was not an unmixed blessing, for in the minutes of delay we could but -calculate the growing loss in wages, and watch the sure vanishing of -any surplus above actual living expenses. I remember making an estimate -on my way to my lodgings that evening, and it was with much sinking of -heart that I discovered that my earnings made a total rather less than -the cost of the day's living. - -There has been difficulty in the way of intercourse with the men. I -speak no Italian, nor any of the Scandinavian tongues, so that my -acquaintance has been confined to my own countrymen, who are few in -number in the gang, and to the Irishmen and negroes, and an occasional -Hungarian who understands my stammering German. And within the -English-speaking circle, in the absence of this, there have been other -barriers. There is wanting that social freedom that is most natural -in Mrs. Flaherty's home. There is much of it among the foreigners. -They hang together at their work, and sit in separate groups through -the noon hour, and one commonly hears, especially among the Italians, -that picturesque volubility which sets you wondering as to the subject -of such fluent debate. Among the English-speaking men, the Irish and -negroes are as Jews and Samaritans; but aside from this, the general -attitude is one of sullen suspiciousness. Few appear to know the -others, and not even their wretchedness draws them to the relief of -companionship. Sometimes we hear warm greetings among acquaintances, -or see some show of friendliness, but this is markedly out of keeping -with the general tone of things. The usual intercourse is an exchange -of experiences, an account of the circumstances which brought them to -their present lot, among men who happen to be working side by side or -sitting in company at the noon hour. Quite as commonly one hears only -muttered curses against the boss. - -You would gather from their own accounts that many of the men are -unused to unskilled labor. There is a singular uniformity in their -histories. Nearly all have seen better days, and are now but tiding -over a dull season in their trades, or are earning enough to take them -to some other part of the country, where there is a quickening in the -demand for their labor. - -I found myself growing doubtful of these unvarying tales. The mechanism -became too apparent. "I am really an efficient and energetic workman," -each seemed to say; "you see me now in a strait of circumstances. You -should see me at my trade, in which I am an adept. I am out of that -employment now because of depression in the business, but when business -revives, or when I can reach Chicago or St. Louis or Minneapolis, my -labor will be in strong demand." Irresistibly one is led to the belief -that most of these men probably have no trade, or, at the best, are -inefficient workmen, who, unable to keep a job long, habitually pick up -a living at work like this, in the careless makeshift of a shiftless -life. - -It is refreshing to meet others who are frankly laborers. All their -lives they have been bred to unskilled labor, and they make no pretence -of anything different. They are hard men who look out upon a world that -is hard to them at every point of contact; but they are true men, by -virtue of their honesty and directness, and one likes them accordingly. -Some of them are old, and it is pitiful to see them tottering under the -burden of years, and staying off actual want by forcing their rheumatic -limbs through the drudgery of this rude toil. - -I had noticed the absence of one of this coterie for a day or two when, -in the middle of a morning's work, he appeared among the ruins. He was -an old Irishman. His face was swollen from toothache, and was bound up -in a cotton bandanna. His hands were clasped on his stooping back, and -he moved with the painful motion that suggests acute rheumatism. For a -time he stood watching us at our work and exchanging words with some -of the men about his complaints, when suddenly he burst into tears. -The men jeered him, and angrily told him to be gone. I had a sickening -feeling of cruelty as I saw him go sobbing down the road; but when I -spoke of him at the noon hour the men explained that it was a disgrace -to have him crying there, but that they would see that his wants were -provided for. - -There was a revelation in the discovery of the degree to which -profanity is ingrained in the vernacular of these men, as -representatives of the laboring poor. They swear with the readiness -of instinct, not merely in anger, when their language mounts to a -torrent of abuse unspeakably awful in its horrid blasphemies, but in -commonest intercourse, when their oaths are as meaningless as casual -interjections. And almost never is the rude hardness of their speech -softened by the amenities which seem so natural a part of language. -The imperative, more than any other mood, is rudely thrust into common -use. They are even punctilious in its employment. - -A single instance will serve to point the nature of this graceless -speech. Two boys of ten or twelve are employed in carrying water to -the men at their work. One carries his bucket through the building to -those engaged in the upper stories; and the other, a flaxen-haired, -delicate child whose thin legs bend under his burden, serves those -of us who are at work on the heaps below. Through all the day, and -especially in its greatest heat, the boys run busily from the works -to a neighboring pump, and return with bucketfuls of water, which are -at once surrounded by thirsty workmen and emptied in a few minutes. -Regardless of the prevailing custom, I always thanked the little fellow -for my drink. Soon I noticed that even this instinctive acknowledgment -seemed to embarrass him. In an interval of rest he came up to me, after -receiving my thanks. "You shouldn't thank me," he said. "And why not?" -I begged to know. "Because, you see, I'm _paid_ to do this," was his -conscientious answer. A mere child, naturally gentle, and yet so bred -to rougher usage that a simple "Thank you" jarred upon his sense of -right! A few minutes later I saw the two boys in a rough-and-ready -fight, and their language lacked none of the horror of that of their -elders. - -I shall be on the road again to-morrow morning, and I shall go as -penniless as I came, but somewhat richer in experience. I have been -through nearly a week of labor, and have survived it, and have honestly -earned my living as a working-man. In the future I shall have the -added confidence which comes of knowing that, if work offers, I shall -probably be able to perform it. But this is not the only cause of my -increased light-heartedness. I am frankly glad to get away from the job -on the old Academic building. This is a selfish feeling, and is not -without the cowardice of all selfishness. I hope for a job of another -kind, for a time at least, because I wish to see some hopefuller side -of the lot of common labor. When we draw too near to the hand of Fate, -and begin to feel as though there were a wrong in the nature of things, -it is best, perhaps, to change our point of view--if we can. This may -account for some of the drifting restlessness among working-men of my -class. - -The salient features of our condition are plain enough. We are -unskilled laborers. We are grown men, and are without a trade. In the -labor market we stand ready to sell to the highest bidder our mere -muscular strength for so many hours each day. We are thus in the lowest -grade of labor. We are here, and not higher in the scale, by reason -of a variety of causes. Some of us were thrown upon our own resources -in childhood, and have earned our living ever since, and by the line -of least resistance we have simply grown to be unskilled workmen. -Opportunities came to some of us of learning useful trades, and we -neglected them, and now we have no developed skill to aid us in earning -a living, and we must take the work that offers. - -Some of us were bred to farm labor, and almost from our earliest -recollection we worked in the fields, until, tiring of country life, -we determined to try some other; and we have turned to this work as -being within our powers, and as affording us a change. Still others -among us, like Wilson, really learned a trade; but the market offers no -further demand for the peculiar skill we possess, and so we are forced -back upon skilless labor. And selling our muscular strength in the open -market for what it will bring, we sell it under peculiar conditions. -It is all the capital that we have. We have no reserve means of -subsistence, and cannot, therefore, stand off for a "reserve price." -We sell under the necessity of satisfying imminent hunger. Broadly -speaking, we must sell our labor or starve; and as hunger is a matter -of a few hours, and we have no other way of meeting this need, we must -sell at once for what the market offers for our labor. And for some of -us there is other pressure, unspeakable, immeasurable pressure, in the -needs of wife and children. - -The contractor buys our labor as he buys other commodities, like brick -and iron and stone, which enter into the construction of the new -building. But he buys of us under certain restrictions to us both. The -law of supply and demand does not apply to our labor with the same -freedom as to other merchandize. We are human beings, and some of -us have social ties, which bricks and iron have not, and we do not, -therefore, move to favorable markets with the same ease and certainty -as these. Besides, we are ignorant men, and behind what we have to sell -is no trained intelligence, nor a knowledge of prices and of the best -means of reaching the best markets. And then we are poor men, who must -sell when we find a purchaser, for no "reserve price" is possible to us. - -The law of supply and demand meets with these restrictions and -others. If it applied with perfect freedom to our commodity, we should -infallibly be where is the greatest demand for our labor; and with -perfect acquaintance with the markets we should always sell in the -dearest. But the benefits of perfect freedom of supply and demand would -not be ours alone. If we sold in the dearest markets, the employer -would as certainly buy in the cheapest. He has capital in the form of -the means of subsistence, and can stand off for a "reserve price," -and could force us to sell at last in the pinch of hunger, and in -competition with starving men. - -As matters are, our wages might rise, in an increased demand for labor, -far above their present point; but even under pressure of decreasing -demand, and with scores of needy men eager to take our places, our -wages, if we had employment at all, would not fall far below their -present level. So much has civilization done for us. It does not insure -to us a chance to earn a living, but it does measurably insure to us -that what we earn by day's labor, such as this, will at least be a -living. - -As unskilled laborers we are unorganized men. We are members of no -union. We must deal individually with our employer, under all the -disadvantages which encumber our position in the market as compared -with his. - -But his position is not an enviable one. He is a competitor in a freer -market than ours. He has secured his contract as the lowest bidder, -under a keener competition than we know, and in every dime that he -must add to wages in order to attract labor, and in every dollar paid -to an inefficient workman, and in every unforeseen difficulty or delay -in the work, he sees a scaling from the margin of profit, which is -already, perhaps, the narrowest that will attract capital into the -field of production. The results of our labor are worth nothing to him -as finished product until given sections of the work are completed. In -the meantime he must advance to us our wages out of capital which is a -product of past labor, his own and ours as working-men, and of other -capital. And this he must continue to do, even if his margin of profit -should wholly disappear, and even if ultimate loss should be the net -result of the expenditure of his labor and capital. In every case, -before any other commodity has been paid for, we have insured to us the -price for which we have sold our labor. - -Our employer is buying labor in a dear market. One dollar and sixty -cents for a day of nine hours and a quarter is a high rate for -unskilled workmen. And the demand continues, for I notice that the -boss accepts every man who applies for a job. The contractor is paying -high for labor, and he will certainly get from us as much work as -he can at the price. The gang-boss is secured for this purpose, and -thoroughly does he know his business. He has sole command of us. He -never saw us before, and he will discharge us all when the débris is -cleared away and the site made ready for the constructive labors of the -skilled workmen. In the meantime he must get from us, if he can, the -utmost of physical labor which we, individually and collectively, are -capable of. If he should drive some of us to exhaustion, and we should -not be able to continue at work, he would not be the loser, for the -market would soon supply him with others to take our places. - -We are ignorant men, and we have a slender hold of economic principles, -but so much we clearly see: that we have sold our labor where we could -sell it dearest, and our employer has bought it where he could buy it -cheapest. He has paid high for it, but not from philanthropic motives, -and he will get at the price, he must get, all the labor that he can; -and, by a strong instinct which possesses us, we shall part with as -little as we can. And there you have, in its rudimentary form, the -bear and the bull sides of the market. - -You tell us that our interests are identical with those of our -employer. That may be true on some ground unknown to us, but we live -from hand to mouth, and we think from day to day, and we have no power -to "reach a hand through time, to catch the far-off interest of tears." -From work like ours there seems to us to have been eliminated every -element which constitutes the nobility of labor. We feel no personal -pride in its progress, and no community of interest with our employer. -He plainly shares this lack of unity of interest; for he takes for -granted that we are dishonest men, and that we will cheat him if we -can; and so he watches us through every moment, and forces us to -realize that not for an hour would he intrust his interests to our -hands. There is for us in our work none of the joy of responsibility, -none of the sense of achievement, only the dull monotony of grinding -toil, with the longing for the signal to quit work, and for our wages -at the end of the week. - -We expect the ready retort that we get what we deserve, that no field -of labor was closed to us, and that we are where we are because we -are fit, or have fitted ourselves, for nothing better. Unskilled -labor must be done, and, in the natural play of productive activity, -it must inevitably be done by those who are excluded from the higher -forms of labor by incapacity, or inefficiency, or misfortune, or lack -of ambition. And being what we are, the dregs of the labor market, -and having no certainty of permanent employment, and no organization -among ourselves, by means of which we can deal with our employer and he -with us by some other than an individual hold upon each other, we must -expect to work under the watchful eye of a gang-boss, and not only be -directed in our labor, but be driven, like the wage-slaves that we are, -through our tasks. - -All this is to tell us, in effect, that our lives are the hard, barren, -hopeless lives that they are because of our own fault, and that our -degradation as men is the measure of our bondage as workmen. - -This seems to state an ultimate fact, and then, with the habit of much -of such thinking, to settle itself peacefully, with an easy conscience, -behind the inevitable. - -But for us there is no such peace or comfort in the inevitable. And -yet, even in this statement of our case, we are not without hope. We -are men, and are capable of becoming better men. We may be capable of -no other than unskilled labor, but why should we be doomed to perform -it under the conditions which now degrade us at our work? - -Imagine each of us an ideal workman. Through all the hours of the -working-day we labor conscientiously, with no need of oversight beyond -intelligent direction; for each of us feels the keenest interest in the -progress of the work, because we are honest men, and, with far-sighted -knowledge, we know that by our best labor in any form of useful -production we are contributing our best to the general prosperity, as -well as our own, and that it is by our energy and personal efficiency -that we may open for ourselves a way to promotion. Here clearly is a -solution on ideal grounds. Is there no remedy that can reach us as we -are? - -Our ambition must be fired, our sense of responsibility awakened and -enlisted in our labor, our intelligences quickened to the vision of our -own interests in the best performance of our duty. Life will not be -rendered frictionless thereby. Work will still be hard, but to it will -be restored its dignity, its power to call into play the better part of -a man, and so build up his character. - -We have already seen how such an end is realized in the initial -betterment of character itself. Let us see whether something might not -be done by an initial improvement in the conditions of employment. - -Let us suppose now that we are not ideal characters, but ordinary men, -whose lot in life is to perform unskilled labor; but let us suppose -that we are an organized body of workmen. The contractor made terms -with us as an organized gang for the removal of the old building. Our -organization, from long experience of such work, was able to enter into -an eminently fair agreement. The contract rests upon a basis of time. -For the completed work we are to receive a fixed sum, provided that -it is finished by a given date. If we finish the work, according to -the terms of the contract, one week earlier, we are to receive a bonus -in addition to the fixed amount; if two weeks earlier, there will be -an increase in the bonus. In the meantime advances are to be made to -us, week by week, in the form of days' wages, but so regulated as to -protect the contractor against loss if the gang should fail to complete -the work. - -Every member of the gang is perfectly familiar with the terms of the -contract, and knows thoroughly the advantages of an early completion -of the job. We agree among ourselves upon the number of hours which -shall constitute a day's work, and from our own number we elect a -boss, who will give direction to our labor, and under whose orders we -bind ourselves to serve. It is no part of his duty now to stand guard -over us in the office of a slave-driver to prevent our shirking, for -we effectually perform that service for ourselves, seeing to it, with -utmost regard for our interests, that no man among us fails to do his -share in the common task. The boss is now the best and most intelligent -worker among us, and not only does he direct our efforts, but, with his -own hands, he sets the example of energetic work for the securing of -the best terms that the contract offers for our common good. - -In a true sense now we have got a job. It is ours. The work is hard, -but we have an object in working hard. Every stroke of labor is not -a listless, time-serving economy of effort, but an eager and willing -furthering of the work toward its completion and our own advantage. We -are glad in the progress of our job, even if we are glad from no higher -motive than our personal profit. We have a sense of responsibility and -the keen interest which comes of that, even if they rise in no better -source than our greed for gain. - -It is true that the root of the matter lies deeper than this. We may -work under hopefuller conditions and be, intrinsically, no better -men. Our selfishness may take on the refinement of the altruism that -merely seeks our own in the welfare of others; our ignorance may -become illumined by an enlightened self-interest; our vices may assume -respectability; and yet our old hardness of heart remain in full -possession of us. But the truly pertinent question is this: Nearer to -which of these ways of living lies the living way? In which have we the -better chance to become better men? Life in its present course is to -most of us a miserable bondage. We work daily to physical exhaustion; -and, with no power left for mental effort, our minds yield themselves -to the play of any chance diversion until they lose the power of -serious attention. In what constitutes for us the work of life there is -no pleasure, no education, no evoking of our better natures. - -All truly productive labor performed under right conditions is itself -a blessing. It partakes of the highest good that life offers. It is -a bringing of order out of chaos, a victory over forces which can be -reduced from evil mastery to useful service. It thus becomes the type -of that labor which is the work of life, the mastery of self in the -building of character. In this sense it was that the monks of the -Middle Ages framed their motto, _Laborare est Orare_--labor is prayer. -But robbed of its true conditions and reduced to the dishonor of -time-service under the eye of a slave-driving boss, who impels us with -insults infinitely more degrading than the lash, labor is no longer -prayer, but a blasphemy, which finds expression in the words which rise -readiest to our lips. - -I have been writing from the position of an unskilled workman, with no -apparent allowance for my newness to the life. The physical stress and -strain, for example, how different my experience of these as compared -with that of the other men inured to them by long habit! A year or two -of such labor, and how great the physical change! My hands would be -hard, and the friction of this work, so far from wounding them, would -render them the more impervious to harm. My muscles would be like iron, -and would lend themselves with far greater ease to the stress of manual -labor. Ten years would find me a seasoned workman. - -But under conditions of labor such as these, what changes other than -physical would there be? My body might be hardened in fibre to the -point of high efficiency in manual labor, but the hardening of mind -and character--is it likely that this would be of the nature of the -strength of more abundant life, or of the hardness of petrifaction? - -I have received the strangest kindness from the men, the most tactful -treatment of me as a novice. They laughed at my strenuous efforts to -do what was so much easier to them, and they laughed when the boss -singled me out for abuse, but never ill-naturedly, I thought. And those -who made up to me, and with whom I picked up acquaintance, showed -the kindest consideration. They never pressed me with embarrassing -questions, but fell gracefully into the easy assumption that I was a -factory hand or a "tradesman" out of a job. It was natural to adopt the -general strain and speak of plans which involved my going West. - -In spite of their roughness and hardness of manner and speech, one -never felt the smallest fear of these men, and you had a growing -feeling that their better natures were never far to seek. And yet in -reality here they were, a cursing, blaspheming crew; men upon whose -lives hopelessness seems to have settled; whose idea of work is a -slavish drudgery done from the instinct of self-preservation and to be -shirked whenever possible; whose idea of pleasure is abandonment to -their unmastered passions. - -I had a purpose in quitting work in the middle of Saturday afternoon. -I went to my lodgings and asked Mrs. Flaherty for an early supper of -anything that she could give me without trouble. Then I brushed my -clothes and washed myself, and made myself as presentable as my slender -pack permitted. My beard was now of nearly two weeks' growth, and -my face was well burned by the sun, and my clothes, in spite of the -protection of overalls, were much labor-stained. - -I felt some security in my disguise, and after an early supper I walked -over to see the sunset parade. On the road I met the men returning from -the works, and had to run a gauntlet of questions as to whether I had -left the job for good, and what I meant to do. - -There was bustle in the camp; a running to and fro of cadets, who -appeared to be subject to many calls; a nervous appearing and vanishing -at the tent-doors of figures which were in process of achieving -parade-dress; a hasty personal inspection of arms and uniform; and then -suddenly, out of apparently inextricable confusion, there emerged, -without a trace of disorder, the two companies, in double lines of -perfect symmetry, before the inspecting officer. - -Then followed the sunset parade. Seated on the benches under the trees, -and grouped on the turf behind, was an eager crowd watching intently, -in perfect stillness, every evolution of the cadets. The fascination -was in the sense it gave you of abounding life, of youth and strength -and vigor, brought to perfect unity in willing subordination to -authority. Here was the type of highest organization, the voluntary -submission of those who are "fit to follow to those who are fittest -to lead." So much has civilization achieved for the purpose of -self-defence. The mission of many of these young officers will be to -take such men as those with whom I have been working, and teach them -the manly lesson of obedience, and awaken in them the feelings of -courage and loyalty and _esprit de corps_. Civilization is yet a long -way from such organization for industrial ends, if ever such corporate -action will be possible or good; but certainly it will not belong -before civilization gives birth in increasing numbers to "captains of -industry," who will feel with their men other ties than the "_nexus_ -of cash payment," and who will attack the problems of production with -other aims than selfish accumulation. Under the direction of such -leaders, workingmen will be led to far greater conquests over the -resources of nature than any in the past, and, sharing consciously in -these victories as the fruits of their own labors, there will open -to them a new life of liberty and hope in willing allegiance to true -control. - -The intense satisfaction I felt in the rest of yesterday (Sunday) was -heightened by a feeling of hopefulness as I thought of the future of -workingmen in a country like ours. Here are almost boundless natural -resources, capable of supporting many times our present population. -Under the stimulus of private acclamation, what marvellous genius and -skill and enterprise have directed labor to the development of our -national wealth! When, with the growth of better knowledge, there is -added to this stimulus among the great leaders of industry a sincere -desire for the common good and a purpose to make the conditions of -employment the means of achieving this good, how far greater must be -the industrial results, and how far better the lives of the workers! - -I felt aglow with this idea as I walked, in the afternoon, down the -road below Highland Falls. It was a warm mid-summer day, and in keeping -with its restful quiet the air moved gently among the leaves in the -tree-tops. I was disturbed by the sound of music from the deck of an -excursion steamer, and, seized with sudden desire for a glimpse of the -river, I vaulted a low stone wall, and quickly made my way over the -mossy carpeting of a wood which covers the bluff above the water. - -I did not see, at first, the abrupt ending of the wood and the sweep of -an open lawn, and when I caught sight of that I was only a few yards -from a rustic bench. There two persons sat, with their backs toward me, -but I recognized the girl at once as an acquaintance, and I knew that -I was a trespassing vagrant. The man I knew well, for he was a college -classmate and a charming fellow, and I longed to ask his views on the -question of the improvement of the lot of unskilled laborers by means -of organization. - -But I grew painfully conscious of my work-stained clothes, and my faded -flannel shirt, and the holes in my old felt hat, and of how all these -marked me as belonging now to another world. And so I quietly stole -away and returned to "mine own people." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -A HOTEL PORTER - - -THE HIGHLANDS, ORANGE COUNTY, N. Y., -Tuesday, 25 August, 1891. - -I am now a hotel porter. More strictly, I have just resigned my -position, and with the net proceeds of three weeks' wages, which amount -to four dollars and two cents, I am ready to make a fresh start in the -early morning. The leisure of this last evening at the hotel I shall -give to the task of summing up the fragmentary notes which I have made -in such chance hours of rest as were to be had in a service which has -kept me on duty from five o'clock in the morning until eleven at night. - -Why I have lingered here so long I scarcely know. The time has flown -with amazing swiftness. I soon found my new job easily within my -powers, as compared with the last one, and I have felt a certain -restful security which has held me here for longer than I meant -to stay. But I am ready enough to set out now, and I feel again a -"yearning for the large excitement" that comes of life upon the open -highway, and the chances of a living earned by the work of my hands. - -I am not twenty miles beyond my last station at Highland Falls. It was -raining when I left Mrs. Flaherty's home, and she pleaded with me to -stay; but I had nothing with which to pay for further entertainment, -and I certainly had not the courage to return to the job on the old -Academic building. And so we parted, Mrs. Flaherty standing with arms -akimbo in the open door of her cottage, a final protest against so rash -a venture as her last word, while I lifted my hat to her and to Minnie, -who peered at me from the shadow of the passage behind her mother. - -It must be owned that the prospect was not encouraging to my new -departure. At intervals of less than a mile, sometimes, I was driven -to seek refuge from the rain. The mountain-road was soft with mud, -and a secure footing was a fruitless search. In the hot air the heavy -dampness added to the discomfort of walking. Only in a general way -I knew that the road would lead me eventually over the Highlands to -Middletown, which lies in my westward course. The beauty of the country -was lost upon me, for the mountain was cloaked in a heavy fog, and -all that rose visible were short, succeeding sections of muddy road, -bordered with forests of oak and hickory-nut and chestnut, with matted -weeds growing thick to the wagon-tracks, and clumps of blackberry -bushes standing here and there along the lines of tottering stone walls -and wooden fences. - -In the middle of the noon hour I reached Forest-of-Dean Mines. A -general supply store stands on the roadside. It was thronged with -Italian laborers. I waited in its shelter until the one-o'clock whistle -recalled the men to their work, and then I made terms with an Italian -boy, who was left in charge, for a five-cent dinner. The child spoke -English with perfect readiness. Almost concealed behind the counter, -he looked wonderfully important and business-like as he reached up to -apply the weights and fixed his great black eyes shrewdly upon the -oscillations of the balance. For five cents he agreed to give me two -ounces of cheese and six soda-crackers. - -This proved a hopelessly inadequate dinner, and by the middle of the -afternoon I was painfully hungry. It must have been between the hours -of three and four when, on a stretch of level road, I met a tall, -over-grown negro youth with a bucket of sour milk in each hand, which -was plainly destined for a pig-pen that I had passed but a few yards -back. Looming dimly in the fog behind him, I could see the outlines of -a large frame structure with lightly built verandas engirding it. I -asked the youth what it was, and learned that it was a hotel, the "---- -House." - -'Did he think that I could get a job there?' He was doubtful of that, -but advised my seeing the "boss," whom I should find in the office. The -office was deserted when I entered it. Some men were playing billiards -in the larger room beyond, which, with the office, forms the ground -floor of a building detached from the main hotel, but joined by a -veranda on the upper story. - -I sat down, and began to dry my feet at a slow fire which burned -in an iron stove. Presently there came in a tall man, straight of -figure, with black eyes and hair and mustache and an uncommonly dark -complexion. I rose with an inquiry for the proprietor, and he sat -down with the assurance that he was the man. There were two definite -requests in my mind. I meant to apply first for a job; but, expecting -nothing of a permanent character, I resolved to ask work for the -remaining afternoon for the sake of food and a night's shelter from the -rain. To my surprise, instead of the negative I expected to my first -request, I found some encouragement in the proprietor's manner. He -owned to the need of a porter until the arrival, in a few days, of the -man who had been engaged for that position. I declared my willingness -to serve and to begin work on the moment. He pointed out that he did -not know me, and that he was not in the habit of engaging servants whom -he did not know. 'Besides, there was not much for the porter to do, and -for his services he was paid at the rate of eight dollars a month and -his board.' I was ready with a plea for a trial, if only for a single -day, and presently the proprietor consented. - -He rose, and at once began to instruct me in my duty. Standing on the -threshold between the office and billiard-room, he pointed to the -bare floors, and explained that they must be scrubbed every morning. -He then indicated the score or more of oil-lamps with which the rooms -were lighted, and said that these must be kept clean and filled. Next -he opened a door from the office into a small room in which was a cot. -That was to be my sleeping-place, and he showed me, in one corner, -buckets and a mop and a broom, which were intended for the porter's -use. Quite abruptly he asked to see my hat, and, wondering at the -request, I showed him the stained black felt with ragged holes in the -crown. "That won't do," he said, and with the word he took down from -a peg a porter's cloth cap with a patent-leather visor, and bade me -wear it at my work. It was much too small, but by dint of holding my -head with care I could keep it on; thus balancing the cap as best I -could, and with the broom in hand, I followed my employer for further -instructions. He led the way to the verandas, and explained that they -must be swept each morning before the guests are up, and again in the -afternoon, at the hour when they are least in use. They were nearly -deserted now, and the proprietor told me to begin my work by sweeping -them, and then he left me. - -I could have danced with sheer delight. Not if I had deliberately -planned it could I have effected a better arrangement. It fitted -my needs exactly. A change to lighter work for a time was almost a -necessity; for my hands were much blistered and torn, and they refused -to heal under the friction of my last employment. And then--and my -spirits rose buoyantly to this idea--here was a chance to see something -of domestic service, and such another, under conditions so favorable, -might not offer in all my journey across the continent. - -"This morning," I thought to myself, "I was a roving laborer in search -of work and with but ten cents in my pocket; now I am a hotel porter, -with bed and board assured and an open field for observation, and some -certainty of a surplus, regardless of the weather, when I quit the job, -although, at its present rate, my daily wage is a fraction less than -twenty-seven cents." - -As I swept the verandas my plans began to form themselves with exciting -interest. "Here is clearly a splendid opportunity. I have been frankly -told that a porter is already engaged, and is on his way, and that -my occupancy of office is simply for the interregnum. Plainly, if I -can give evidence, in the meantime, of usefulness such that, when the -regular porter comes, I shall be continued in some employment about the -hotel, that will be a distinct achievement; and it will not be without -a bearing upon the practical question as to what a penniless man may -do for himself in the way of winning permanent employment that offers -chances of promotion." I resolved to bend all my energies to that. - -When the verandas were swept, I returned to the office and -billiard-room, and began to study the field. The floors were sadly in -need of scrubbing; many of the lamp chimneys were smoked, and all were -far from clean; the windows of both rooms were much weather-stained; -and the paint on the woodwork could be improved by a thorough washing. -I then went over the grounds, and found the walks in disorder, and the -lawns matted and strewn with litter. - -I lit the lamps at nightfall, and awaited a summons to supper. While -in the region of the kitchen I noticed that an extra hand might often -prove of service there. Back in my own domain for the evening, I found -my offices in demand in attendance upon the billiard and pool tables. - -By eleven o'clock the house was still, and I was at liberty to go to -bed. Among the furniture in the office was an alarm-clock. This I wound -up, and set for a quarter to five. - -The morning was splendidly bright. When I stepped out upon the veranda -the sun had already cleared the tops of the wooded Highlands, and, with -the radiance reflected from infinite rain-drops in the forests, there -rolled from their "gorgeous gloom" the "sweet after showers, ambrosial -air." In no direction was the outlook wide; but the air gleamed in the -sunlight with the crystal clearness which gives its peculiar quality -to our autumn, and which so early as August can be had only at -considerable altitudes. - -But the scrubbing awaited me, and was a task of much uncertainty. In -the kitchen I filled my buckets with water--cold water, I am sorry to -say. I threw wide open the doors and windows, and first sprinkled the -floors, as I had seen shopkeepers do, and then swept them thoroughly. I -tried to apply the water by means of a mop with a long wooden handle; -but failing completely in that, I detached the handle, and getting -down on my knees, I went carefully over the surface with the mop in -hand. Frequently I changed the water, and when the scrubbing was done I -looked the damp floors over with immense satisfaction. - -Until I was called to breakfast I spent the time in sweeping the -verandas and clearing from the walks the twigs and dead leaves with -which they were strewn after the rain. In no way was I prepared for -the alarming surprise which was in store for me. When I returned to -the office I stood aghast at the sight of the newly scrubbed floors. -They were dry now, and were covered with fantastic designs. Every final -movement of the mop was distinctly traceable in streaks of unmistakable -dirt. And there was the proprietor at work at his desk, and he faintly -noticed me as I entered. I stood expecting my discharge, with what -fortitude I could summon, but receiving no further attention from my -employer, I hurried back to the work on the walks and drives. During -the dinner-hour I brought a broom to bear upon the coiling traceries on -the floor, and succeeded in softening their bolder outlines. - -But scrubbing proved a peculiarly difficult art. On the second morning -I did all that I had done before, and then got buckets of clean hot -water and a fresh mop; and on hands and knees I went over the floors, -wiping them up with scrupulous care. The result was no better, once -dry, and the designs in daubs of dirt were as fantastic as ever. On -the third morning I tried still a new plan, but only with the result -of effecting a change in the designs. I was learning to scrub by an -empirical process, and the fourth venture approached success. Hot -water and soap, and a scrub-brush vigorously applied, and then a final -swabbing, left the floors comparatively clean, and free from the -persistent mop-stains. - -Only one more of my duties I found difficult of mastery. Like scrubbing -the floors, washing the windows was full of surprises. From one of -the house-maids I learned that clean, hot, soapy water was the prime -necessity. I was delighted with the first result, for after the washing -within and without, I had visions of the glass in a high state of clean -transparency. But the sun had absorbed the water, and left stains -of tenacious soap, when I came to the polishing, and after hours of -labor I almost despaired of ever bringing the panes to a reasonably -untarnished condition. - -The work has varied so little in detail that the history of a single -day is an epitome of the three weeks' service: - -I am up at a little before five in the morning. The floors of the -office and billiard-room are my first concern; and by the time these -are scrubbed it is six o'clock. The _chef_ early noticed my willingness -to lend a hand in the kitchen, and he rewards me with a liberal supply -of hot water every morning, and a cup of coffee and a slice of bread at -six o'clock when he takes his own. Fortified in this way, I sweep the -verandas and walks, and rake the drives and lawns until breakfast. - -There is a curious, horizontal, social cleavage among the "help." -I belong to the lower stratum. I first noticed the distinction at -our meals. The negro head-waiter, and the pastry-cook, and the -head-gardener, and the company of Irish maids, who do double duty -as waitresses and house-maids, take their meals in the dining-room -after the guests are served. The remnants of these two servings are -then heaped upon a table in a long, low, dimly lighted room which -intervenes between the kitchen and dining-room, and there we of the -lowest class help ourselves. Our coterie consists of an English maid, a -recent arrival from Liverpool, who serves as a dishwasher, three negro -laundresses, two negro stable-boys and myself, with a varying element -in two or three hired men, who drop in irregularly from the region of -the barns. - -Martha, the English maid, is chiefly in charge here, and she bravely -tries to serve, and to bring some order out of the chaos; but the task -is beyond her. We take places as we find them vacant, and each helps -himself from what remains to be eaten of the fragments of the meal just -ended. There is always a towering supply, but an abundance of a sort -that deadens your appetite, like the blow of a sand-bag. - -I reproached myself with fastidiousness at first, and imagined that to -the other servants, who shared it, the fare was entirely palatable; and -so I was surprised when, at a dinner early in my stay, one of the negro -laundresses seized a plate heaped with scraps of meat, from which we -had all been helping ourselves, and carried it out with the indignant -remark that it was fit only for the dogs, adding, sententiously, as she -disappeared through the door: "We are not dogs _yet_; we are supposed -to be human." And back to her afternoon's work she went, although she -had eaten only a morsel. - -These meals were curiously solemn functions; scarcely a word was ever -spoken. Martha was "cumbered about much serving," and very heroically -she tried to impart some decent order to the meal, and a cheerfuller -tone to the company. I never knew the cause of the sullen unsociability -which possessed us, whether it was ill-humor born of the physical -weariness from which all the servants seemed constantly to suffer as a -result of the high pressure of work at the height of the season, or the -revolting fare which often sent us unrested and unfed from our meals. - -It is the vision of supper that will linger clearest in my memory. The -long, reeking room seen faintly in the yellow light of one begrimed -oil-lamp; the ceiling so low that I can easily reach it with my -upstretched hand, and dotted over with innumerable flies. The room -is a paradise for flies, which swarm most in our food that lies in -ill-assorted heaps down the middle of a rough wooden table. Here we sit -in chance order, black and white faces often alternating; the white -ones livid in their vivid contrast with the background of the room's -deep shadows, and the others ghastly visible in the general blackness -from which gleam the whites of eyes. Sometimes the two stable-boys find -seats together; and then they bid defiance to the general gloom, and -are soon bubbling over with musical laughter, that rolls responsive to -the least remark from either. It is interesting at such times to watch -Martha's face. The nervous energy which is always struggling there -against a look of utter weariness shines victorious now, in the light -of a new hope that a better cheer has come at last to her table. - -From breakfast I hurry back to the work of putting the grounds in -order. The walks I sweep every morning, and then rake the drives and -the lawns. - -It was at this work that I early found convincing proof of the -completeness of my social change. The lawns at certain hours are in -the possession of nurse-maids and infants. I have never calculated -the number of children in the hotel, but their ages apparently mark -every stage of advance from a few weeks to as many years. My liking -for children amounts to reverent devotion, and it gave me a shock, -from which I have not recovered, to find that, unshaven and uncouth in -workmen's clothes, I had become for them a bogey with whom their nurses -frighten them into obedience, warning them in excited tones with "Here -comes the man to take you away!" - -It was at this work, too, that I once incurred the avowed displeasure -of a guest. She was a beautiful Philistine, with a keenly penetrating -twang and turns of speech that bespoke the regions of Sixth Avenue and -Fourteenth Street. But she was remarkably handsome, tall and graceful, -and of high-bred bearing and of a thoroughly aristocratic type. It must -be confessed that whenever she was visible from my regions the section -of the grounds which commanded a view of her, and was yet fairly -beyond the sound of her voice, received assiduous attention from me; -for she was highly remunerative to look at. I was sweeping a section -of the walk immediately in front of the hotel. Unlike the work at -West Point, a porter's duties do not preclude mental effort. Absorbed -in thought and quite unconscious of my surroundings, I was suddenly -recalled to them and to my station in life by nasal accents raised -in strong reproof. I looked up in bewilderment, and saw confronting -me the beautiful Philistine, holding a little child by each hand. -Very straight she stood and bright-eyed, with her head thrown back, -and an exquisite flush over her face, and her beautiful lips curled -in anger, as she scolded me roundly for raising so much dust. I was -unfamiliar with the etiquette of the situation, so I held my peace, and -respectfully touched my cap, inwardly calling her the beauty that she -was as she stood there, and ardently hoping that she would scold me -more. - -[Illustration: I HELD MY PEACE, AND RESPECTFULLY TOUCHED MY CAP, -INWARDLY CALLING HER THE BEAUTY THAT SHE WAS.] - -From the lawns I go to the kitchen, and offer my services to the -_chef_. Usually he has ready for me a basket of potatoes to peel. In a -little shed by the kitchen-door I sit and peel endlessly. The servants -are flocking in and out through the open door in the fetid air. The -heat is of the suffocating kind, in which the heavy air lies dead. -It is nearing the dinner-hour, and everyone must work with almost a -frenzy of effort. The high tension communicates itself to us all, and -we feel the nervous strain upon our tempers. The hundred and one petty -annoyances which cause the friction of household service prove too -much, and the tension bursts into a furious quarrel between the Irish -pastry-cook and the negro head-waiter. No one has time to heed them, -but his storming oaths and her plaintive, whining key, maintained with -provoking tenacity, whatever relief they bring to them, are far from -soothing to the rest of us. - -The maids are gathered from all parts of the hotel. Most of them have -been on duty since six o'clock, and after the morning's work there -now awaits them the rush of serving dinner. Want of sufficient sleep -and utter physical weariness have drawn deep lines in their faces. -Presently one of them, a slender young girl, sinks exhausted into a -seat, and we hear her notion of the _summum bonum_: "Oh, I wish I was -rich, and could swing all day in a hammock!" I follow the direction -of her eyes. Across a wide stretch of lawn and in the shade of some -clustering maples I see the gleam of a white dress rocking gently in a -hammock, and I catch the flutter of a fan and the light on an open page. - -Sometimes I am in the region of the kitchen during the dinner-hour -itself. As an experience, I fancy that it is not unlike that of being -behind the scenes in the course of the play. The kitchen and pantry -are ill-ventilated, and are hot to suffocation. About a counter-like -partition which separates the two rooms crowd the eager waitresses, -rehearsing in shrill tones their orders to the _chef_ and his -assistant. There is a babel of voices striving to be heard, and a -ceaseless clatter of dishes, and a hurrying to and fro. The _chef_ is -not a bad fellow, but his temper is rarely proof against the harassing -annoyances incident upon serving a dinner, and he loses it in a torrent -of oaths. The volume of noise increases until the height of dinner is -reached and passed, and then it subsides, quite like a thunder-storm. - -The afternoon's work keeps me, for the most part, in my own -regions. The lamps must first be cleaned and filled, and then the -billiard-tables brushed for the evening play, and there may remain -unfinished work on the grounds, which claims me until it is time to -sweep the verandas again. - -When I am out of the office I must be careful that the doors and the -windows are open, and my ears attentive to the bell; for I am porter -and bell-boy in one. - -A bell-boy is sometimes at a disadvantage. He is not supposed to -explain, and circumstances may wrong him. - -The bell rings. I run to the indicator, and then climb to the door that -bears the corresponding number. A lady asks for a pitcher of ice-water. -Unluckily the ice-chest is locked, and the key, I learn, is in the -keeping of the head-waiter. After hasty search, I find that official -seated on a rock in the shade behind the barn, conversing with some of -the hands. He tells me that there is no ice in the chest, and advises -my going to the ice-house. I do so with all possible speed, and am -fortunate enough to find a piece of loose ice not far below the surface -of saw-dust. Back to the kitchen I run with it, wash it, and chop it -into fragments. But all this has taken time; it is very hot, and the -lady, no doubt, is very thirsty. As I hand her the pitcher of water, -her caustic acknowledgment expresses anything but gratitude. - -The verandas are no sooner swept for the afternoon than the stage -appears from the station. I must be in attendance to relieve the newly -arrived guests of their lighter luggage and, with the help of one of -the stable-boys, to carry their trunks to their rooms. - -It was in such services as these that I met with an insuperable -difficulty. Before I launched upon the enterprise of earning my living -by manual labor I settled it with myself that I would shrink from no -honest work, however menial, that might fall within the range of my -experiment. I confess that, in my present avocation, when it came -to the necessity of cleaning the cuspidors used by a tobacco-eating -gentry, the task was accomplished only after hard setting of teeth, -and much involuntary contraction of muscles. But I hasten to let -fall a veil already too widely drawn from the hidden rites of a -porter's service. The difficulty in point was of another kind, and -had to do with tips. I was not unprepared for the emergency, for the -proprietor had hinted, in our first conversation, with every mark of -embarrassment, and with a tone of apology for the eight dollars a -month, that that amount was sure to be supplemented by gratuities. -It might have been different under other circumstances; but when I -had seen the guests and noted the unmistakable marks of residence in -cheap flats and low-rent suburban cottages, and realized the careful -husbanding of funds and the close calculation which make a summer -outing possible to them, their fees were some degrees beyond the -possible to me. - -In the case of the luggage, it was easy to bow acknowledgment and to -decline in favor of Sam, the stable-boy, who, beaming with delight, -stood ready to receive gifts to any amount, and who loved me warmly. -But when I was alone with some guest in the act of a personal service, -the situation created by a proffered fee proved embarrassing to us -both, and was not to be relieved by bows and expressions of sincere -appreciation. - -The evening's duties are usually the lighting of the lamps at -nightfall, and assorting the mail that comes in after supper, and -attending the billiard and pool tables, and answering the bell-calls. -Saturday afternoons and evenings are varied with industrious -preparations for extra guests. This makes added demands upon us all, -and the servants dread Sunday as bringing always the severest strain of -the week. My own share of extra work is confined to Saturday afternoon -and evening, when I put up cots, and carry bed-linen and blankets -about, under the orders of the house-keeper, usually until midnight. -And when I go to sleep at last it is on the hay in the barn, for my -room is swept and garnished on Saturday and given up to a guest. It is -no hardship to sleep on the hay, but, through knowledge gained from -the scale of prices posted in the office, I can but understand what an -admirable business arrangement it is for the proprietor to so utilize -my room over Sunday. The added revenue which is thus yielded during my -stay amounts to fifteen dollars, and as the total sum of my wages for -the three weeks is five dollars and sixty-seven cents, the net returns -to the proprietor in service and profit speak well for his management. - -But there is other evidence of good management, and in a quarter that -appeals to me more. His treatment of the "help" is so uniformly fair. -I do not like him; but, so far as I know, I am alone in my dislike -among all the servants of the house; and I cannot fail to see that a -feeling of personal loyalty is behind much of the patient, enduring -service to which I have been witness. Only once was there an approach -to a collision between us, and certainly I emerged from that in rather -a ridiculous light. - -It was but two or three evenings ago. Usually I have been able to -eat at our table enough at least to deaden appetite, but on that -evening I could eat nothing. As I passed through the pastry-kitchen -on my way back to the office I saw a few pieces of corn-bread which -were apparently to be thrown away. I asked the cook for some, and she -readily told me to help myself. On a flagging near the kitchen-door -I sat down to eat the bread, and the proprietor must have seen me -there in the dim light. I had not finished when the negro head-waiter -came upon me in much excitement. I belong to a lower order of service -than he, but he treats me civilly, and there was nothing more than -nervousness in his manner now. - -"You mustn't get cheese from the pantry without leave," he was saying -in high agitation. - -I thought that he had gone mad, but he presently made clear that -the proprietor had come to him with the complaint that I was eating -cheese, which is kept in the pantry, and is not intended for the lower -servants. The supper-table had upset me, and the corn-bread which -caused the present trouble had been cold comfort. I was furiously angry -now, hot and aglow with a passion of rage which at that moment was a -splendid sensation. With great civility I thanked the head-waiter, and -explained the mistake, and showed him a fragment of bread still in my -hand, and then asked where I should find the proprietor. He had gone to -the office, and I followed him there, scarcely conscious of touching -the ground. It was close upon the mail-hour, and the office was crowded -with guests. Near the stove stood the proprietor, and he saw me as I -approached him. I was looking him full in the eyes when I told him, -without introductory remarks, that if he had any further criticisms to -offer upon my conduct he was at liberty to bring them directly to me. -If I had had any sense of humor left I should have laughed then at his -appearance, and have forestalled the ridiculous scene, in which, with -a look of distressed embarrassment, he edged toward the door, and I -followed, with my eyes on his, as I treated him to the most cynically -patronizing sentences which I could frame, while the guests looked on -in silence. - -Once in the quiet of the veranda, he explained to me that, since he -holds the head-waiter responsible in such matters, he had naturally -complained to him, and added that he was sorry if any mistake had been -made. I pointed out the mistake, and felt the fool that I was, and -spent the evening in a long walk over the hills, returning only in time -to lock up and put out the lights. - -As a basis of comparison I have now the two short terms of service at -West Point and here. I received employment at both places as almost -any laborer might have done, and I found in them both the means of -livelihood. But as a servant, I have found more than that. The man who -had been engaged as porter appeared about a week after my arrival. He -proved to be Martha's brother, and a newly landed immigrant. There was -no mistaking the last fact. His peaked countenance, with surviving -traces of ruddy color; his queer pot-hat, that rested on his ears; his -bright woollen tippet, defying the heat; his baggy suit, which had -doubtless served for day and night through all the voyage; his heavy -boots--all proclaimed him the raw material of a new citizen. Nor -could there be a doubt of his kinship with Martha. She stood with me -awaiting the stage, directing eager glances down the carriage-drive -and excitedly asking questions about its coming. She was the first to -see it, and to recognize her brother on the seat with Sam, and she -fluttered about in the unconcealed delight of affection, perfectly -unconscious of everyone, until her arms were about her brother's neck, -and she was leading him away to the kitchen. - -Nothing was said to me about leaving; Martha's brother became her -assistant as a dishwasher, and learned to lend a generally useful hand -in the kitchen. - -And so I had fairly won my place, and had open before me a way of -promotion. Experience alone could disclose the value of the opening; -but the "---- House" is a winter as well as a summer resort, and -a porter's services are therefore in demand through the year. If -efficient, intelligent labor could not eventually win higher and more -responsible position in such an enterprise, and possibly gain, at last, -an interest in the business, the case is surely exceptional. - -It is the change in external conditions and its bearing upon me as a -human worker which have most impressed me, in contrast with my first -experience. - -I worked for nine hours and a quarter at West Point, and had, at the -end of the day's labor, if the weather had been good, eighty-five cents -above actual living expenses. Here I have usually worked from five -o'clock in the morning until eleven at night, at all manner of menial -drudgery, and have gone to bed in the comfortable assurance that, in -addition to food and shelter, I have earned twenty-six cents and a -fraction. And yet, as a matter of choice, purely with reference to the -conditions under which the work is done, I should infinitely prefer a -week of my present duties to a single day at such labor as that at West -Point. - -The work here is specific, and it is mine, to be done as I best can. -Responsibility and initiative and personal pride enter here, and render -the eighteen hours of this work incomparably shorter than the nine -hours of my last. It is true that it partakes of the character of much -household service, in that it is ever doing and is never done; but -there is a feeling of accomplishment in the fact of getting my quarters -clean and the grounds in order, and in keeping them so, although it be -at the cost of labor always repeated and never ended. - -Perhaps it is because I am still haunted by the thought of the cruel -bondage of unskilled labor, under which men exhaust their powers of -body and mind and soul at work that, in the very conditions of its -doing, seems to harden them into slaves, instead of strengthening them -into men, that I fail to feel keenly the want of time that I can call -my own. I have an independence of vastly better sort in having work -which I can call my own, and which I can do with some human pleasure -and interest and profit in its performance, however hard it may be. - -Slender as is my acquaintance with either, I yet see, with perfect -certainty, that the standard of character is higher in this company -of servants than among the gang of unskilled laborers. Other causes -may have a share in this result, but the efficient cause is clear -in the better moral atmosphere in which the work is done. I do not -know how conscious is the feeling of unity of interest with their -employer, or of copartnery with one another in labor, or of personal -responsibility; but all these motives must play a part in effecting the -successful accomplishment of the house-work, with its intricacies and -interdependencies which render constant personal oversight impossible. -Of course the proprietor has much trouble with the "help," and there -are frequent changes among them; but the body of the company remains -the same, and some of the servants have been here for several seasons. - -Certainly one is obliged to look elsewhere than to wages for a cause -of better work as showing a finer moral fibre, if I may judge from my -twenty-six cents a day. I dare say that mine is the minimum wage. The -_chef_ told me that he gets sixty dollars a month, and I fancy that his -is the maximum sum. It is purely a guess, but I venture it, that the -average among us would not exceed five dollars a week. Five dollars a -week above the necessaries of life will buy much among the commonest -proletariat. Under certain conditions that, or even a less sum, might -buy industrious and almost continuous effort for fourteen or eighteen -hours a day, but not, I fancy, in the present economic condition of -household servants in this country. There must be other causes to -account for that. - -The want of time which is at one's own command is the commonest -objection urged against domestic service as accounting for the ready -choice of harder work with far less of creature comfort, but with -definite limits and entire disposing of the rest of one's day. Stronger -than this, I fancy, as an objection, is a social disability which -attaches to service, and under the sway of which a house-maid has not -the prospect of so good a marriage, socially considered, as a factory -girl, who earns a scanty living, but is subject to no one's command -outside of the factory gates. - -The strength of social conventions is a force to be reckoned with among -the working classes. It may seem that below the standing of folk gentle -by birth and breeding there are no social standards or social barriers -of serious strength. I begin to suspect that distinctions are as -clearly made on one side of that line as the other. Very certain I am -that the upper servants here and the nurses and house-maids are removed -from us of the clothes-washing and dish-washing and floor-scrubbing -fraternity by a very considerable social gulf. - -A course of eighteen hours of continuous daily duty soon gives one -a surprising relish for the pleasure of doing as you please. I know -now something of the delight of a "Sunday off." I got my first leave -of absence one afternoon when I was allowed to go to the village of -Central Valley to have my boots mended. Not since I was a small boy at -boarding-school have I felt the same vivid pleasure in going freely -forth, knowing that, for the time, I was my own master; and when I -returned to the hotel, it was very much with the school-boy's feeling -of passing again under the yoke. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A HIRED MAN AT AN ASYLUM - - -WILKESBARRE, PENNSYLVANIA, -Saturday, September 19, 1891. - -I have a wide sweep of country to cover from the "---- House" in -the Highlands above the Hudson, where I served as a porter, and -received with my wages a reference to the effect that my work was done -"faithfully and well," to the coal regions of Pennsylvania in the -valley of the Susquehanna. - -My spirits rise at every recollection of the journey. For days I walked -through the crisp autumn air, breathing its tingling freshness, and -barely sensible of fatigue. - -The way led me over the rich farm-lands of Orange County, and across -the Delaware, and through the lonely wilderness of the Pennsylvania -border, until I emerged upon the hills above the Susquehanna, and -caught sight of the splendid valley, with its native beauty hideously -marred by the blackened trails of forest fires and the monstrous heaps -of culm that mark the mouth of the coal-pits. - -So far work has not failed me, unless I mark as an exception the single -case when I began a search, and brought it abruptly to an end by -descending suddenly upon a camping party of friends. - -Quietly and mysteriously, I fancy, to the other servants, I appeared -among them at the "---- House," and with as little notice I tried to -steal away. Instead of going to the kitchen at five o'clock on that -Wednesday morning for scrubbing-water, I took to the road with my pack, -and left behind me the "---- House" awaking to life in the servants' -quarters. - -I had been a gang-laborer and a hotel porter, and now I wondered what -my next rôle was to be. But the feeling was simply a genial curiosity, -and was free from the timid shrinking with which I set out from the -minister's house in Wilton, and my lodgings at Highland Falls. Then -it was under the spur of self-compulsion that I launched afresh upon -this fortuitous life. With strong animal instinct I had clung to any -haven where shelter and food were secure. Now I warmly welcomed a freer -courage born of experience. Not too sure of newly gained powers, but -like a boy learning to swim, I fancied that I felt the strength of -some confidence in the novel element. Light-hearted in spite of my -pack, which gained weight with every step, I walked briskly along the -country roads, charmed with everything I saw, and feeling sure that my -wages would see me through to another job. Was it a real acquisition, -and had I learned to catch the strange pleasure of this fugitive life? -or did the difference lie in the bracing cool of the morning, and -the beauty of the open country, and the sense of freedom after long -restraint, and, most subtly of all, in that little, hoarded balance in -my purse? - -It was nightfall when I entered Middletown, and too late to look for -work. With my eye upon the rows of cottages which line the street by -which I entered the town, I soon found a boarding-house for workmen. -A bed could be had for twenty cents. At a bakery near by I got a loaf -of bread and a quart of milk for a dime, and was thus supplied with a -supper and breakfast. Twelve hours of unbroken sleep fell to me that -night, and in the cool of a threatening morning I set out to find work. -The scaffolding about a brick building in process of erection drew -my attention, and I applied for a job as a hod-carrier, but found no -demand there for further unskilled labor. The boss in charge refused -me with some show of petulance, as though annoyed by repeated appeals. -He was not more cheerful, but was politely communicative enough when I -asked after the likelihood of my finding work in the town. "There is -no business doing," he said. "The bottom has fallen out of this place. -There's two men looking for every job here, and my advice to you is to -go somewhere else." - -At the head of the street I came upon the foundation work of another -building, which, I learned, was to be an armory. Here the boss -instantly offered me a job, if I could lay brick or do the work of a -mason, but of unskilled labor he said that he had an abundant supply. -"But yonder," he added, "is the Asylum, and much work is in progress on -the grounds, and there, surely, is your best chance of employment." - -The Asylum was a State HomÅ“opathic Institution for the Insane. I could -see the large brick buildings on the highest area of spacious grounds, -which spread away in easy undulations, with their natural beauty -heightened by the tasteful work of a landscape gardener. - -Near the entrance to the grounds I came upon a large force of laborers -digging a ditch for a water-main. The boss refused me a place, but -not without evident regret at the necessity, and he was at pains to -explain to me that, already on that morning, he had been obliged to -turn away half a dozen men. - -It was with no great expectation of success at finding work there -that I began walking somewhat aimlessly through the Asylum grounds. -The first person whom I met was an old Irish gardener. He painfully -stood erect as I questioned him as to whom I should apply for a job, -and supported himself with one hand on my shoulder, while he told me -of the medical superintendent, and the overseer, and the foreman, who -are in charge of various departments of the work. Presently, his face -brightened with excitement as he pointed to a large man who was walking -toward one of the buildings, and he pushed me in his direction with -an eager injunction to apply to him, for he was the overseer of the -grounds. - -The overseer listened to my request and read in silence my reference -from the "---- House," and looked me over for a moment, and then -abruptly ordered me to report at seven o'clock on the next morning, -adding, as he disappeared within the building, that he was paying his -men a dollar and a half a day. - -The old Irish gardener showed the heartiest pleasure at my success, and -directed me to a boarding-house near the Asylum grounds, where I was -soon settled, and where at noon I ate a memorable dinner, the first -square meal for thirty-six hours, and the first one which had about it -the elements of decent comfort since I left Mrs. Flaherty's table. - -At seven o'clock on the next morning I was one of a gang of twenty -laborers who were digging a sewer-ditch. The ditch had passed the -farther edge of a meadow, and must cut its way through the field to -the Asylum buildings, two hundred yards beyond. Its course was marked -by a straight cut through the sod which was to furnish us a guide. -Some of the men took their former places in unfinished portions of the -work, and the rest of us fell apart, leaving intervals of about three -yards from man to man. With the cut as a guide, and with the single -instruction to keep the ditch two feet wide, we began to wield our -picks and shovels. A thick, unmoving fog lay damp upon the meadow, -already saturated with dew. The sun-rays, gathering penetrating power -as they pierced the fog, were soon producing the effect of prickly -heat. This atmosphere, surcharged with moisture and lifeless in its -sluggish weight, yet quick with stinging heat, was a medium in which -the actual work done was out of proportion to its cost in potential -energy. In the forceful Irishism of one of the laborers: "It was a -muggy morning, and a man must do his work twice over to get it done." - -By dint of strenuous industry and careful imitation of the methods -of the other men, I managed to keep pace with them. I saw from the -first that the work would be hard; and in point of severity it proved -all that I expected, and more. To ply a pick and urge a shovel for -five continuous hours calls for endurance. Down sweeps your pick with -a mighty stroke upon what appears yielding, presentable earth, only -to come into contact with a rock concealed just below the surface, -a contact which sends a violent jar through all your frame, causing -vibrations which end in the sensation of an electric shock at your -finger-tips. A few repetitions of this experience are distinctly -disheartening in effect. Besides, the sun has cleared the fog, and is -shining full upon us through the still air. The trench is well below -the surface, now, and we work with the sun beating on our aching backs, -and our heads buried in the ditch, where we breathed the hot air heavy -with the smell of fresh soil, and the sweat drips from our faces upon -the damp clay. - -By nine o'clock what strength and courage I have left seem oozing from -every pore. The demoralization is complete, and I know that only "the -shame of open shame" holds me to my work. I dig mechanically on through -another sluggish hour of torment; and then I come to, and find myself -breathing deeply, with long regular breaths, in the miracle of "second -wind," with fresh energy flowing like a stream of new life through my -body. - -Through all the working hours of the day the foreman sat upon a pile -of tools silently watching us at the job. Now and then he politely -urged that the ditch be kept not less than two feet wide, and nothing -could have been further from his manner and speech than any approach to -abusing the men. It was his evident purpose to treat us well, but the -act of his oversight, under the conditions of our employment, involved -a practical wasting of his day, and cast upon us the suspicion of -dishonesty. - -On the next morning, which was Saturday, the foreman sent me down the -ditch, where the pipe was already laid, and ordered me, with two other -men, to fill in the earth. Like a line of earthworks lay the "stubborn -glebe" above the trench. The work of shovelling it back into place -seemed easy at first, and was easy, as compared with the digging; but -the wet, cohesive clay that lined the ditch's brink yielded only to -the pressure of a compulsion very persistently applied. We quit on that -evening at five o'clock, with a full day's pay for nine hours' work. - -The foreman met me on Monday morning with an order for yet another -change. At the barn I should find "Hunt," he said, and I was to report -to him as his "help." Hunt proved to be a good-looking, taciturn -teamster, who had just hitched his horses to his "truck," and he -told me to get aboard. The "truck" was a heavy four-wheeled vehicle -without a box, but with, instead, a stout platform suspended from the -axle-trees, and resting but a few inches from the ground. Standing upon -this we drove all day from point to point about the grounds, attending -to manifold needs. - -We had first to cart the milk-cans from the dairy to the kitchen. This -errand took us to the rear of the Asylum buildings, where the entries -open upon a series of quadrangular courts. Then from entry to entry we -drove, gathering up great bags of soiled clothes, which lay in heaps -about the doors, and we carted these to the laundry. Then back to the -kitchen we went, and took on a load of huge cans filled with swill, and -transferred them to a large pig-sty at the edge of the wood, below the -meadow, and there emptied their contents into hogsheads, from which, -at stated hours, the swill is baled out to the loud-squealing herd -within. Again we made the round of the entries, this time to gather up -the waste barrels which stood full of ashes, and the results of the -morning's sweeping; and having emptied these, we replaced them for a -fresh supply. Then we drove to the garden, and carted from that quarter -to the kitchen several loads of vegetables. - -The afternoon was consumed in supplying the demand for ice. Embedded in -a mass of hay in the ice-house, the ice must first be uncovered, and -the cakes, frozen together, must be pried apart with a crowbar and then -dragged over the melting surface to the door, and finally loaded upon -the truck. - -We first carted it to the barn-yard, where we washed it by playing -water over it with a hose, and then to the kitchen wing, where we -chopped it into smaller pieces and threw these into openings which -communicated with the large refrigerators inside. Again and again was -this process repeated, until an adequate supply had been furnished, and -then there remained before six o'clock time enough to cart to the pigs -their evening meal from the kitchen. - -With slight changes in detail, this remained the order of our work -through the few days of my stay. I held the job long enough to find -myself ensconced at the Asylum, and then I told the foreman that I -wished to go. He looked at me in some surprise, and began to argue -the point. "You'd better stay by your job," he said. "It is not the -best work, but we'll find better for you before long." I thanked him -heartily, and told him I was interested to learn that, but that I felt -obliged to go. He shook hands with me, and cordially wished me luck, -and told me to apply to him for work if I happened again in those -parts, and added that I could get my wages by calling at the office on -the next afternoon, which was the regular pay-day. - -A free day was highly useful now, for my clothes and boots were -seriously in need of repair. The pack contained the means of much -mending, and by dinner-time my coat and trousers were patched, and my -stockings were stoutly darned. But the boots were beyond me. Already -they had cost me dear, for a dollar, the earnings of four days as a -porter, had gone for a pair of new soles, and now another outlay, -enormous in its relation to my means, was an imperative necessity. - -I had made an appointment with a cobbler for an early hour in the -afternoon, precisely as one would with a dentist; for while he was at -work on my only pair of boots, I had to sit by in my stocking feet. -Secretly I welcomed the necessity, in spite of its calamitous cost. -I could take a book with me, and read with a clear conscience. The -cobbler was smoking his after-dinner cigar when I entered his shop. -He was little inclined to talk; and when he had finished his smoke he -picked up a boot, and bent over it with an air of absorption. I was -soon lost in my book. - -The work was nearly done when some movement of his drew my attention to -the cobbler. I had been struck by his appearance, and now my interest -deepened. Away from his bench it would not have occurred to one to -assign him to that calling. He was an old man, whose muscular figure -had acquired a stoop at the shoulders like that of some seasoned -scholar. His features were clean-cut and strong. His blue eyes had a -look of much shrewdness and force. There were deep lines about his -mouth and in his forehead, which spoke of masterful conflict in life. -Meeting him in the dress of a gentleman, you would have said that he -was a public man of some distinction, and with close acquaintance with -affairs. In reality, he had sat for fifty years upon that bench. -He was growing communicative now; and from his personal history I -tried to divert him to his views of life, thinking that I must have -found a philosopher in a man whose opportunities for reflection had -been so great. But his talk was flowing freely, and would take its -own course, careless of my promptings. I settled myself to listen, -and my interested attention seemed to fire him with new zest. From -personal narrative it was an easy step to events of our national -history, and he warmed to these under the inspiration of the life -of some great man connected with each. General Scott was his first -hero; and touching upon details of his history, which were wholly -unknown to me, he pictured the inborn, warlike spirit of the man with -amazing appreciation, and finally quoted the judgment of the Duke of -Wellington, who, he said, had declared of Scott that, "as a general, -he stood without a superior." Here he paused for a moment to explain -that the Duke of Wellington was a personage of exceptional military -experience, whose judgments in such matters were entitled to the -highest respect. - -The Civil War and Mr. Lincoln as the chief figure of those troublous -times next inspired him. It was with no mean insight into the issues -involved that he glowed with the thought of a constitutional question -grown to sharp national conflict, and settled at infinite cost, -and transmitted as a most sacred trust, to be guarded with eternal -vigilance. But the climax was reached when he turned back on his -course, and began afresh, with the Father of his Country as his theme. -The incident of the cherry-tree was repeated with sublime faith, and -with highly dramatic effect. Encouraged by his success and my absorbed -attention, he next recounted the events of that fateful June morning -when the allied American and British forces were nearing Fort Duquesne. -With keenest appreciation of the fatal irony of it, he repeated again -and again his own version of the reply made to the warning of young -Washington by General Braddock: "You young buckskin! you teach a -British officer how to fight?" - -A chivalric spirit led him now to speak of "Lady Washington." This -moved him most of all, and when he declared that he would repeat for me -some lines composed by her, which he had learned by heart as a boy, his -emotions were almost beyond control. His job was finished now, and he -drew himself up, and made a strong effort to modulate his voice, which -was trembling with feeling. The lines had an evident magic for him, and -he repeated them with great throbs of emotion, while his eyes grew dim: - - - Saw ye my hero? - Saw ye my hero? - - I saw not your hero; - But I'm told he's in the van, - When the battle just began, - And he stays to take care of his men. - - Oh ye gods! I give you my charge - To protect my hero, George, - And return him safe home to my arms. - - -Then, bending toward me, he placed a trembling hand on my knee; and -looking dimly into my eyes, he said, in husky tones: "And they did, -didn't they?" I assented earnestly, charmed by his sincerity and -enthusiasm, only hopeful that there was some mistake in the unexpected -glimpse of Lady Washington in the character of a poet, and like my -friend struggling with feeling that I found it hard to suppress, -and which expressed, would have been sadly out of harmony with the -scriptural injunction to "weep with them that weep." - -There was a charm in the old cobbler's harangue, which I felt for long. -Even his views of life seemed to appear in these crude enthusiasms upon -general themes. There was a note of optimism which one could not fail -to catch, and to respect in a man who, for fifty years, had honestly -earned his living on a cobbler's bench. His sense of proprietorship -in his country, and of natural right to high personal pride in her -history, conveyed themselves to you as strong convictions, and you -understood something of the power which dwells in a people who feel -thus toward their country, and who share in her control. - -An hour later I was at the Asylum on the errand of getting my pay. I -had anticipated the appointed time by a few minutes, and was the first -of the workmen in the office. The clerk was in his place, however; and -my appearance, hat in hand, furnished him with the signal for drawing -from his desk the receipt-forms, upon which the men acknowledge the -payments by their signatures. In the bustle of the business just -beginning, the clerk turned upon me and asked, somewhat brusquely, if -I could write my name, or whether he should write it for me, and I -affix my mark. So unexpected was the question, that I was conscious at -first of some bewilderment, and then of a rising resentment against the -fact that such a question should be put to an American workman. I said -that I had acquired the habit of signing my own name when necessary; -but I might have spared myself that folly, for the clerk hastened to -explain with the kindest consideration that, of all the laborers whom -he habitually pays off, scarcely half can write; "although," he added, -with an admirable touch of fairness, "a very small proportion of the -illiterate are native-born Americans." I am afraid that my resentment -had its source in a grotesquely foolish feeling. I have been mistaken -for a drunkard, and a detective, and a disreputable double of myself, -and have been made a bogey of to frighten children into obedience -withal, but not once, so far as I know, have I been taken for a -gentleman. And if the truth must be told, I fear that the very success -of my disguise is somewhat chagrinning at times. - -There was no wrench on the next morning in parting with the family -with whom I boarded, unless my landlady shared my regret at leaving. -She was a meek little woman who slaved heroically at household work to -support her daughter, who studied stenography and typewriting, and her -idle husband, who led the life of a professional invalid. He had tried -upon me highly colored tales of his career as a soldier, and of what -he would have done in life but for his ill-health, tales which I soon -learned to interrupt with small services to his wife, and he gave me -up as hopelessly unsympathetic. A baseball game on the Asylum grounds -attracted a large crowd one afternoon; and as Hunt and I drove past on -an errand, I caught sight of the ex-soldier, who, at his home, was too -great a sufferer to contribute even a helping hand at the housework -toward his own support, but who here was dancing in vigor of delight -over a two-base hit. - -It was clear that a rate of progress which had carried me not even so -far as the border line of Pennsylvania, during nearly two months, would -require a considerable portion of a lifetime in which to accomplish the -three thousand miles before me. I resolved upon more energetic tramping -as a wiser policy for, at least, the immediate future. - -A rough plan was soon formed. I had saved nearly six dollars. It was -Wednesday morning. I would give three days to uninterrupted walk, and -by Friday evening I should reach Wilkesbarre. The whole of Saturday, -if so much time were needed, could then be given to a search for -employment; and the rest of Sunday would put me in trim to begin on -Monday morning the work which would provide in a few days for present -needs, and furnish a balance with which to begin the tramp once more. - -At an early hour I was upon the high-road which leads to Port Jervis. -The day was a perfect type of the best season of our northern climate, -cloudless but for a fleecy embankment behind the purple hills to the -north, flooded with a glorious light touched with grateful warmth, and -which revealed with articulate distinctness every visible object in the -crystal-clear air--an air so pure and cool that it spurred you to your -quickest step, and sent bounding through you a glad delight in breath -and life. - -In all the landscape was the richness of color and the vividness of -a transfigured world. An early frost had touched the foliage; the -leaves of the hickory-trees and elms were rustling crisply at their -tips, and the sumach deepened into a crimson that matched the color -of its clustered seeds, while the oaks and maples maintained the dark -luxuriance of their summer leafage, boastful of a hardihood which would -succumb only to the keener cold of the later autumn. - -Up hill and down dale my road led me, where substantial farm-houses, -and enormous barns, and fields of standing corn, and herds of cattle in -the pasture-lands, all indicated the necessaries and even the comforts -of life in rich abundance, and emphasized the wonder that from such -surroundings should come the recruits who ceaselessly throng our -crowded towns. - -A few miles farther on the whole topography of the country changed. -I had passed through the village of Otisville and was walking in the -direction of Huguenot when my way carried me to a hillside from which I -could see the long stretch of a valley, reaching far to the westward, -and lined on both sides, with almost artificial regularity, by ranges -of hills, which rose sharply from the plain below. Through a break at -the north the Delaware flows, and, crossing the plain-like valley, -disappears among the southern hills, while the valley itself, in almost -unbroken symmetry, reaches on to the west. - -At the foot of the northern range, and on the eastern bank of the -river, is the town of Port Jervis. Its outer streets are the light, -airy thoroughfares of the usual American town, faced by small wooden -cottages, each with its plot of ground devoted in front to a few square -yards of turf, and carefully economized behind the house for the -purpose of supporting fruit-trees and providing a vegetable garden. - -The great number of these individual homes, as indicating the manner of -life of multitudes of the working classes in provincial towns, seemed -to me to mark a conspicuous absence of crowded tenement living; and -on its positive side to indicate at least the possibility of wholesome -family life and of much home comfort. Certainly my experience at -Highland Falls and at Middletown confirms this impression. In each -of those cases the people with whom I stayed owned their home and -the plot of land about it, which contributed thriftily toward the -family support. The houses were ephemeral wooden cottages, done in the -degrading ugliness inspired by the Queen Anne revival, and furnished -in a taste even more florid, and they were not overclean. And yet they -were comfortable homes, in which we fared handsomely, eating meat three -times a day, and varieties of vegetables and admirable home-made bread, -and knew no stint of sugar or butter, and slept in good beds in not too -crowded rooms in an upper story. - -All about me here, and reaching down the long vistas of communicating -streets, were the same external conditions, until I entered the closely -built up "brick blocks" of the business quarter of the town. I could -but think how characteristic of our smaller cities is this separate -individual home-life of the wage-earning classes, and how increasingly -are the improved means of transportation rendering like surroundings -possible for the workmen of the larger towns. - -Having crossed the Delaware River, about four o'clock I began a walk -through a region no less beautiful than that through which I had -passed in the morning. My way lay in the valley, directly under the -steep hills that wall it in on the north. Their densely wooded sides -cast deep shadows obliquely across the road, and in this grateful -shade I walked on, listening to the songs of birds and the murmur of -mountain-streams, and the cooling sound of spray splashing from ledge -to ledge of moss-grown rocks. - -At sunset I entered the village of Milford, which nestles securely -at the foot of the mountains of Pike County, a beautiful village of -wide, well-shaded streets, where there was little to mar the elegant -simplicity of dignified country homes, untouched by harrowing attempts -at the fantastic. - -By eight o'clock I was fast asleep in a workmen's boarding-house, and -at sunrise on the next morning I was on the road which turns sharply -up the mountain-side. A dense mist lay upon the valley, but my way -soon led me up to the freer air, until, upon the summit of a ridge, I -reached the clear sunshine, and could see the emerging ranges of hills -to the east and south and the white mist resting motionless on the -valley below. - -Up and up I climbed into higher altitudes. Each elevation appeared, as -I approached it, the topmost crest of the mountain, and yet I gained it -only to find another rough steep beyond. - -There could scarcely have been a sharper contrast with the journey of -the previous day. The graceful undulations of rich farm-lands and the -broad plain of the Huguenot flats, checkered with field and forest and -pasture, and traversed by well-kept roads, and dotted over with the -buildings of prosperous farms and thriving villages, had given place, -in the panorama of my journey, to rugged mountains, steep and densely -wooded, except where, on some less hopeless site at the very margin of -cultivation, a settler had cleared the land and begun a conflict with -the stony soil in an almost desperate struggle for a living. Here were -mountain-roads that went from bad to worse, until, before I had crossed -the range, my way degenerated into a narrow, rocky trail, overgrown -with weeds, and along which I walked for a stretch of six or eight -miles without passing a dwelling. - -That was in the afternoon. At a little before twelve o'clock I -had come to Shohola Falls. There, in a "hollow" on the bank of a -mountain-stream, stood a saw-mill, surrounded by piles of bleaching -boards and a few rough, unpainted cottages. Through the open door of -a shop I caught sight of an old carpenter bending over his bench. He -entered very readily into directions about the way and told me that I -had but to follow a direct road to Kimble, and from there there was no -difficulty in the way to Tafton, which, he said, was as far as I could -get that day. Then, with an eye on my pack, he asked pointedly what -I was peddling. The forgotten magazines recurred to me and I opened -my pack and handed him a copy. The frequent change of subject and the -variety of illustration fixed for a time his excited attention. - -Half a score of young children now crowded about the door, and edged -cautiously into the shop, fixing upon me eyes wide open with the hunger -of curiosity. They were all barefooted and ragged, and not one of them -was clean, and at a single glance you saw that, mountain-bred and young -as they were, there was no wholesome color in their faces, and that the -very beauty of childhood was already fading before a persistent diet -from the frying-pan. - -The old carpenter presently turned upon me with the air of one who was -master of the situation. - -"Would you like to sell some of them books around here?" he asked. - -I told him that I should. - -"Well, you're a stranger here, ain't you?" - -"Yes." - -"Then don't you try it. A young fellow done this place out of more'n -fifty dollars last spring, and we're kind o' careful of strangers now." - -I sat on the door-step to rest, and invited the children to look at the -pictures, which they did, hesitatingly at first, with timid advances, -in which curiosity struggled with their fear of the unfamiliar. But -they grew bolder as I invented stories to match the illustrations, -and presently they were all nestling about me in the ease of absorbed -attention. One little girl of four or five, who had eyed me at first -with an anxious look of alarm, now stood leaning over my shoulder -with an arm about my neck, and her soft brown hair, escaped from her -sun-bonnet, touching my face, while she looked down upon the pictures, -and I could feel her breath quickening as the story neared its climax. - -I pressed on presently, and the children ran by my side, asking for yet -one story more, and finally calling their good-byes and waving their -hands to me as I disappeared around a curve in the road. - -A few miles farther on I came to a lonely farm-house, where I knocked -in quest of a dinner. The open door revealed a woman's face, so sad -and worn, so full of care and of weary years of slavish drudgery, -that quite instinctively I began to apologize, and to conceal my real -purpose in aimless inquiry about the way. - -"I do not know," she said; "but won't you come in? The boys will soon -be at home for dinner, and they can tell you." - -Her voice was soft and sweet, and her manner so reassuring that I -gladly followed her into the sitting-room, where she introduced me to -her daughter, a slender, dark young woman, who sat sewing by an open -window. - -I hastened to make myself known as a workman on my way to Wilkesbarre, -where I hoped to get employment, and I told them of my encounter with -the carpenter at the Falls. They smiled as though the flavor of his -humor was not lost to them, and they spoke of other characters at the -settlement quite as odd as he. - -Both women were dressed in the plainest calico, and without a touch of -ornament, and the house was poor; poor to the verge of poverty; but -the walls were free from chromoes and worsted mottoes, and showed, -instead, a few good engravings, and the rag-carpet on the floor blent -in accordant colors, and curtains hung neatly at the windows. - -Dinner was waiting, and presently the mother said that we would delay -it no longer for the boys. We sat down at a table in a rough shed which -opened from the sitting-room. A spotless cloth covered the board, and -the service was simple and tasteful, and there was the uncommon luxury -of napkins. The dinner moved with unembarrassed ease. We talked of the -surrounding country, and its resemblance to other regions, and of the -political situation. The mother led the talk, and tactfully guarded it -from any approach to silence or to topics too intimate. Once, however, -she touched lightly upon a former home in a prosperous corner of -another State, and instantly I felt the hint of some family tragedy. - -And now her two sons came shuffling in, rough and ruddy from their -work, clean-cut, well-bred young fellows, far too young I thought to be -"hauling logs," and I could read an agony of anxiety in their mother's -face as she watched them wearily take their seat on the vacant bench by -the table. They had been left in the care of the work in the absence of -their father, who had gone some miles to a neighboring settlement, "on -business," their mother added, blushing deeply, while the boys looked -hard at their plates. - -The afternoon's tramp lay through the wildest part of that wild -region. From Shohola Falls to Kimble the direct road is one which -leads straight across the mountain, and is almost unbroken, and seldom -used. In all its course I passed but two or three farms; and these -revealed a pitiful poverty, in the wretched hovels which did service -as farm-houses and barns, and, more plainly, if possible, in the -squalor of little children who gaped at me from among high weeds behind -tottering fences. - -On I went for miles, over a road so lonely that it recalled the -loneliness of the sea, and, like the sea, the sweep of heaving -mountains seemed unbroken in a boundless monotony. And then the -landscape had in it the beauty and the majesty of the sea, and the -whispering of the wind over vast fields of stunted pines and scrub oaks -answered to the wash of waves, and bore a fragrance and freshness to -match with ocean breezes. - -Late in the afternoon my way descended abruptly by a more frequented -road in the direction of Kimble. Presently I could see a railway and -a canal, and I felt a little, I fancied, as an explorer must upon -emerging, once more, into the region of the explored. - -I wished to know the distance and the way to Tafton, and so I inquired -of the first person whom I met. She was a milkmaid, and so picturesque -a figure, that I felt a pleasurable excitement in the chance of a -word with her. Her calico skirt was tucked up a little at one side. -Under one bare arm she carried a milking-stool, and a bucket in the -other hand. Her sun-bonnet had fallen from her head, and hung like a -scholar's hood on her back. The sunlight was playing in glory about her -face and in her abundant auburn hair. - -My excitement suddenly took another form; for, as I lifted my hat in -apologetic inquiry, there fell about me a shower of oak-leaves, which I -had placed in the crown for the sake of added coolness. - -The milkmaid had met me with a clear, frank look between the eyes; -but she shrank a little now, and could not resist a startled glance, -full of questioning, as to what further my hat might contain, and she -answered me more with the purpose, I fancy, of being quickly rid of a -wanderer of such doubtful mind, than of adding to his information. - -The walk from Kimble to Tafton, I presently found, could be shortened -by taking a path through the forest; and I was soon panting up the -hillside, grateful for the long twilight which promised to see me -safe, before the darkness, to my destination. - -On the way I fell in with a young quarryman, whose home was near -Tafton, and who willingly became my guide. He was only sixteen, but -already he had worked for four years at his trade. His gaunt, angular -body showed plainly the marks of arrested development, when the growth -of the boy had hardened prematurely into an almost deformed figure of a -confirmed laborer. - -He lunged clumsily beside me, and was inclined to be taciturn at first; -but he warmed presently to readier speech, and talked frankly of his -work and manner of life. At twelve he had been taken from school and -sent to the quarry to help his father support a growing family. And -then his days had settled into a ceaseless round of hard work, from -which there was no escape for him until he should be twenty-one, an age -which appeared to his perception at an almost infinite distance. - -His attitude to his present circumstances was not a resentful one. -He seemed to think it most natural that he should help in the family -support; or, rather, no other possibility seemed to occur to him. It -was soon apparent, too, that his chiefest hope and ambition, with -reference to his ultimate freedom from that necessity, were centred -in a possible return to school advantages. He spoke of his efforts to -study after work hours, and of the hardness of such a course, and owned -to the fear of insurmountable difficulties in the future. His reticence -was gone now, and he was speaking with hearty freedom, and with his -eyes all alight with the dream of his life. I told him something of -the increased opportunities of education for men who must make their -own way, and of how many men I had known who had supported themselves -through college. - -We parted at the edge of the forest, where we reached his home, a frail -shell of a shanty, standing upon stumps of felled trees, and he was -welcomed by the sight of his mother, chopping wood at the roadside, and -a troop of ragged children playing about the open door. - -At nightfall, on the next evening, I entered Wilkesbarre, but I got so -far only by virtue of a long lift in a farmer's cart, which carried me, -by a stroke of great good fortune, over much the longest part of the -day's journey. - -So far my plan had been carried out. It was Friday evening, and I was -safe in Wilkesbarre, somewhat worn by the walk of rather over eighty -miles, and with an increased dislike for my burdensome pack, but with -every prospect of being fit for work so soon as I should find it. My -success in that direction had been so uniform, that instead of sleeping -in the open, as I had done on the night before, I allowed myself the -luxury of a bed in a cheap boarding-house, and a supper and a breakfast -at its table, before beginning my search. Further good fortune awaited -me, for Saturday morning lent itself with cheerful brightness to the -enterprise. At an early hour I stepped out into a busy street of the -city, sore and stiff with walking, but high of hope, and not without a -certain elevation of spirit, which might have warned me of a fall. - -Work on the city sewers was being carried through the public square. -I found the contractor, and applied for work as a digger. Very -courteously he took the pains to explain to me that he was obliged to -keep on hand, and pay for full time, a force of men far larger than was -demanded, except by certain exigencies, and that he could not increase -their number. Not far from the square another gang of workmen were -laying the curbstones and repairing the street, but here I was again -refused. I lifted my eyes to the site of a stone building that was -nearing completion, and there, too, no added hands were needed. - -By this time I had neared the post-office, and I found letters awaiting -me there which claimed the next half hour. But even more embarrassing, -as a check to further search, was a free reading-room, which now -invited me to files of New York newspapers, in which I knew that I -should find details of recent interesting political developments at -Rochester and Saratoga, not to mention possible fresh complications in -the more exciting game of politics abroad. I went in, and like Charles -Kingsley's young monk, Philemon, who, wandering one day farther than -ever before from the monastery in the desert, chanced upon the ruins -of an old Egyptian temple; and mindful of a warning against such -seduction, yet guiltily charmed by the rare beauty of the frescoes, -prayed aloud, "Lord, turn away mine eyes, lest they behold vanity," -but looked, nevertheless--I looked, too, and I read on until mounting -remorse robbed the reading of all pleasure and drove me to my task -again. - -But I had fallen once; and, by a sad fatality, scarcely had I renewed -the search, with weakened power of resistance, when I stumbled upon a -fiercer temptation in the form of a library, which announced in plain -letters its freedom to the public until the hour of nine in the evening. - -Forgetful of my character as a workman; miserably callous to the -claim of duty to find employment, if possible; and in any case, to -live honestly the life which I had assumed, I entered the wide-open, -hospitable doors, and was soon lost to other thought, and even to the -sense of shame, in the absorbing interest of favorite books. - -In the lonely tramp across the mountains of Pike County I walked -sometimes for miles with no opportunity of quenching a growing thirst, -when suddenly I came upon a mountain-spring that trickled from the -solid rock, and formed a little pool in its shade, where I threw myself -on the ground, and, with a glorious sense of relief, drank deeply of -its cold water. The analogy is a weak one, for the physical relief and -the momentary pleasure but faintly suggest the prolonged intellectual -delight, after two months of unslackened thirst. - -Here was an inexhaustible supply, and there were polite librarians who -responded cheerfully to your slightest wish; and, best of all, there -was an inner door which disclosed a reading-room, where perfect quiet -reigned, and comfortable chairs invited you to grateful ease, and -shelves on shelves of books were free to your eager hand. - -To pass from one writer to another, among the volumes that lay on the -table, lingering over long-loved passages, or dipping lightly here and -there, absorbing pleasure from the very touch of the book and the sight -of the well-printed page, held by the charm of some characteristic -phrase, and finally to sink into the folds of an easy-chair with -a store of books within ready reach--what delight can equal such -satisfaction of a craving sense? - -There through the livelong day I sit, and through the early evening, -until I am roused by the sound of slamming shutters which is the -janitor's signal for nine o'clock, the hour of closing for the night. - -Taking my hat and stick I walk out into the gas-lit street, and into -our modern world, with its artificialities and its social and labor -problems; and I remember that I am a proletaire out of a job, and that -with shameless neglect of duty I have been idling through priceless -hours. Crestfallen, I hurry to my boarding-house, longing, like any -conscious-stricken inebriate, to lose remorse in sleep. - -As I walk to my lodgings a certain fellow-feeling warms me with fresh -sympathy for my kind. I have met with my first reverse, not a serious -one, but still the search for work for the first time in my experience -has been fruitless through most of a morning. Instead of persevering -industriously, I yield weakly to the desire to forget my present lot, -and the duty it entails, in the intoxication that beckons to me from -free books. That happens to be my temptation, and I fall. - -Another workman of my class, in precisely my position, encounters, not -one chance temptation which he might escape by taking another street, -but at every corner open doors which invite him to the companionship of -other men, who will help him to forget his discouragements so long as -his savings last. And as we are both turned into the street at night, -in What do we differ as regards our moral strength? He yielded to his -temptation, and I to mine. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -A FARM HAND - - -WILLIAMSPORT, LYCOMING COUNTY, PA., -Saturday, 3 October, 1891. - -From Wilkesbarre it was an easy day's march to the village of Pleasant -Hill, which lies in the way to Williamsport. The only notable incident -of the tramp was one which confirmed me in an early formed policy. I -have avoided railways, and have walked in preference along the country -roads, as affording better opportunities of intercourse with people. -But in going on that morning from Wilkesbarre to the ferry which -crossed the river to Plymouth, I took the advice of a gate-keeper at -a railway crossing and started down the track on a long trestle as a -short cut to the ferry. All went well until I was half way over, and -then two coal trains passed simultaneously in opposite directions, and -I hung by my hands from the framework at one side, while the engineer -and fireman on the locomotive nearest me laughed heartily at the figure -that I cut, with the side of each car grazing my pack, and my hold on -the railing growing visibly slacker. - -It was a little after nightfall when I reached the tavern at Pleasant -Hill. Of my wages I had fifty cents left. I questioned the proprietor -as to the demand for work in his community. He was quite encouraging. -Only that afternoon, he said, one of the best farmers of the -neighborhood had been inquiring in the village for a possible man, and -to the best of his knowledge he had not found one. I said that I should -apply at his farm in the morning, and then I broached the subject of -entertainment. We soon struck a bargain for a supper and breakfast, and -the privilege of a bed on the hay; but when, after supper, I asked to -be directed to the barn, the landlord silently led the way to a little -room upstairs, and there wished me good-night. - -In the early morning he pointed out to me the road to his neighbor's -farm, which I followed with ready success. I was penniless now, and -had only an uncertain chance of work. And then, if the farmer should -ask me, I should be obliged to own to inexperience, and the demand -for farm-hands I thought must be limited, at a date so far into the -autumn. But the morning was exquisite, and the buoyancy that it bred -was an easy match for misgivings, so that it was with a light heart -that I turned from the road into a lane which leads to the house of the -farmer, whom I shall call Mr. Hill. - -All about me were the marks of thrift. The fences stood straight and -stout, with an air of lasting security. On a rising ledge above the -lane was the farm-house, a small, unpainted wooden cottage, bleached to -the rich, deep brown of a well-colored meerschaum pipe, and as snug and -tight as a pilot's schooner. Near it was a summer-kitchen that seemed -fairly to glow with conscious pride in its cleanness, and the very -foot-path from the gate to the cottage-door was swept like a threshing -floor. - -On the door-step sat a girl in a calico dress of delicate pink, with a -dark gingham apron concealing all its front. She was shelling peas into -a milk-pan which rested on her lap, and the morning sunlight was in her -flaxen hair, and showed you the delicate freshness of a pink-and-white -complexion. Sober hazel eyes were fixed on me as I walked up the -foot-path, and of us two I was the embarrassed one. I have not got over -a certain timidity in asking for work, and each request is a sturdy -effort of the will, with the rest of me in cowardly revolt, and a timid -shrinking much in evidence I fear. - -"Is this Mr. Hill's farm?" I ask, and I know that I am blushing deeply. - -"Yes," says the young woman, with grave dignity and the most natural -self-possession in the world. - -"Is he at home?" I am sweating freely now, as I stand with my hat -crushed between my hands, and the pack feeling like a mountain on my -back. - -"He is down at the pond on the edge of the farm." And her serious eyes -follow the line of the long lane which sinks from the house with the -downward slope of the land. - -With her permission I leave the pack behind, and then follow the -indicated way. The barn is on my right, a large, unpainted structure, -stained by weather to as dark a hue as the house, but there are no -loose boards about it, nor any rifts among the shingles, and the -doors hang true on their hinges, and meet in well-adjusted touch. The -cowyard and the pigsty flank the lane, and the neatness of the yard -and the tightness of the troughs make clear that there is no waste of -fodder there. Farther down and on my left is the wagon-house, as good -a building almost as the cottage, and with much the same clean, strong -compactness. There are no ploughs nor other farming tools lying exposed -to the weather, no signs of idle capital wasting with the wear of -rust, but everywhere the active, thrifty strength of wise economy. - -Two men are at work at the pond, and I pick my man at once. They are -plainly brothers, but the Mr. Hill of whom I am in search is the -stronger-looking man, and is clearly in command of the job. I am -reminded of a certain type which one comes to know on "the street," -a clean-cut, vigorous man, who keeps his youth till sixty, and who, -for many years, has had a masterful, compelling hand upon the conduct -of affairs, has put railways through the West, and opened up mining -regions, and knows the inner workings of legislatures and of much else -besides. - -I wait for a pause in the work, and try to screw my courage to the -sticking-point; and then I tell Mr. Hill that the landlord at the -tavern has sent me to him in the belief that he needs a man, and I add -that I shall be glad of a job. Without preliminary questions Mr. Hill -engages me on the spot, and makes me an offer of board and lodging, -and seventy-five cents a day, which, he says, is the usual rate on -the farms at that season. I close with the bargain, and ask to be set -to work immediately. A minute later I am walking up the lane with a -message for Mrs. Hill, to the effect that I am the new "hired man," and -that she will please give me, to take to the pond, a certain "broad -hoe" from the wagon-house. - -Mrs. Hill understands the situation at once; she makes no comment, but -goes with me to the wagon-house, where she points out the hoe among -other tools in a corner. She has said nothing so far, and I feel a -little uncomfortable, but now she turns to me with a frank directness -of manner that is very reassuring. - -"I ain't got no room for you in the house, but I guess you'll be -comfortable sleeping out here. You can fetch your grip, and I'll show -you your bed." - -Pack in hand, I follow her up the steps to the loft of the wagon-house, -and she points to a cot near the farther window and a wooden chair -beside it. "Some time to-day I'll make up your bed, and if there's -anything you want you can tell me." This is her final word as she -leaves me to return to the house. I slip on my overalls and take note -of my new quarters. Windows at both ends of the loft provide ample -ventilation. The cot is covered with a corn-husk mattress, as clean -and fresh as a cock of new hay. The very floor is free from dust. -The rafters hang thick with bunches of seed-corn on the cob, with -their outer husks removed and the inner husks drawn back and neatly -interwoven, the whole effect suggesting stalactites in a cave. The air -is fragrant with the perfume from slices of apples, that are closely -threaded and hung up to dry in graceful festoons from rafter to rafter. - -Five minutes later I am at work at the pond. The pond is an artificial -one, created by a wooden dam. The water has been allowed to flow out, -and the old woodwork is to be renewed. - -My immediate task is to dig a ditch along the outer side of the rotting -planks, so that they can be removed and replaced by new ones. I am -soon alone on the job, for the farmers' work calls them elsewhere. -The experience in the sewer-ditch at Middletown is all to my credit, -and my spirits rise with the discovery that I can handle my pick and -shovel more effectively, and with less sense of exhaustion. And then -the stint is my own, and no boss stands guard over me as a dishonest -workman. At least I am conscious of none, and I am working on merrily, -when suddenly I become aware of my employer bending over the ditch and -watching me intently. - -It is a face very red with the heat and much bespattered with mud, -into which my tools sink gurglingly, that I turn up to him. - -"How are you getting on?" - -"Pretty well, thank you." - -"You mustn't work too hard. All that I ask of a man is to work steady. -Have an apple?" - -He is gone in a moment, and I stand in the ditch eating the apple with -immense relish, and thinking what a good sort that farmer is, and how -thoroughly he understands the principle of getting his best work out -of a man! He has appealed to my sense of honor by intrusting the job -to me, and now he has won me completely to his interests by showing -concern in mine. - -The work is hard, and the morning hours are very long, but the -labor achieves its own satisfaction as the task grows under one's -self-directed effort, and there is no torture of body and soul in the -surveillance of a slave-driving boss. - -But I am thoroughly tired and very hungry when Mr. Hill calls to me -from across the pond that it is time to go to dinner. I join him in -haste, and we walk up the lane together, while he drives his team -before him, and points out with evident pride the young colts and other -stock in the pasture. - -On a bench near the door of the summer-kitchen are two tin basins -full of water, and there we wash ourselves, drawing by means of a -gourd-dipper from a brimming bucket near by any fresh supply of water -that we want. A coarse, clean towel hangs over a roller above the -bench, and at this we take our turns. - -The dinner is a quiet meal, and tends to solemnity. Mrs. Hill and her -daughter sit opposite the farmer and me. Little is said, but for me -there is absorbing interest in the meal itself. It is worthy of the -best traditions of country life, clean in all its appointments to a -degree of spotlessness, really elegant in its quiet simplicity, and -appetizing?--how was I ever to stop eating those potatoes that spread -under the pressure of my fork into a mass of flaky deliciousness, or -the ears of sweet-corn fresh from a late field, or the green peas that -swim in a sweet stew of their own brewing, or, best of all, the little -pond pickerel that are grilled to a crisp brown turn? - -In our more artificial forms of living we habitually eat when we are -not hungry, and drink when we are not thirsty, and we know little of -the sheer physical delight in meat and drink when our natures seize -joyously upon the means of life, and organs work in glad adaptation -to function, and the organism, in full revival, responds to its -environment! - -The work moves uninterruptedly in the afternoon; and at six o'clock, -as I wearily drag my feet along the lane by the farmer's side, I can -see his daughter driving the cattle through the pasture to the cowyard, -and I wonder how I shall fare at the evening milking. But I am not -put to that test; for the farmer declines my offer of help, with the -explanation that, under our arrangement, my day's work is done at six -o'clock, and that he is not entitled to further help, nor does he need -it, he adds, for his wife and daughter always lend a hand at the chores. - -Supper is almost a repetition of dinner, with a pitcher of rich milk -kindly pressed upon me when I decline the tea, and with apple-sauce and -cake in the place of pumpkin-pie. Soon after, I am lighting my way with -a lantern through the dark to my cot in the loft, and for ten hours -I sleep the sleep of a child, and awake at six in the morning to the -farmer's call of "John, hey John!" from under the window. - -All of that day, which was Wednesday, was given to completing the work -on the dam. The necessary excavation was soon finished, and then we -laid the timbers, and nailed the new planks into place, and filled in -and packed the earth behind them. Over the completed job the farmer -expressed such a depth of satisfaction that I felt a glow of pride -in the work, and a sense of proprietorship, which was splendidly -compensating for the effort which it had cost. - -The remaining three days of the week we spent in picking apples. -Behind the wagon-house was an orchard. Mr. Hill first selected a tree, -and then we placed under it the number of empty barrels, which, in -his judgment, corresponded to its yield, a judgment which was always -singularly accurate. Then, each supplied with a half-bushel basket -with a wooden hook attached to the handle, we next climbed among the -branches, and suspending our baskets, we carefully picked the apples -with a quick upward turn of the fruit, which detached them at the point -at which the stem was fast to the twig. Both baskets were usually full -at about the same moment, and then we took turns in climbing down and -receiving the baskets from the tree, and emptying the apples into the -barrels with great caution against possible bruising. - -All this was Arcadian in its joyous simplicity. All day we moved among -the boughs, breathing the fragrance of ripened fruit and the mellow -odor of apple-trees turning at the touch of frost; picking ceaselessly -the full-juiced apples "sweetened with the summer light," while above -us white clouds fled briskly before the northwest wind across the -clear blue of the autumn sky; and below us lay the pasture, where the -patient cattle grazed, and beyond stretched open country of field and -forest, which, in that crystal air, met the horizon in a clean, sharp -line. - -Mr. Hill and I were growing very chummy. A faint uncomfortable distrust -of me, which I suspected through the first two days, had wholly -disappeared. We talked with perfect freedom now and with a growing -liking for each other, which, for me, added vastly to the charm of -those six days on the farm. - -I tried at first to lead the talk, and to draw Mr. Hill into -expressions of his views of life, that I might learn his attitude -toward modern progress, and catch glimpses of the growth of things from -his point of view. But Mr. Hill was proof against such promptings. He -was a shrewd, practical farmer, with a masterful hold upon all the -details of his enterprise, and with a mind quickened by thrifty conduct -of his own affairs to a catholic taste for information. His schooling -had been limited, he said, but he must have meant his actual school -training; for life itself had been his school, and admirably had he -improved its advantages. He was a trained observer and a close student -of actual events. Instead of my getting him to talk, he made me talk, -but with so natural a force as to rob it of all thought of compulsion. - -The talk drifted early into politics, and I soon found that my -light-hearted generalizations would not pass muster. Back and back he -would press me upon the data of each induction, until I was forced to -tell what I knew, or was confronted with my ignorance. - -And then he delighted in talk of other people than our own, and his -knowledge of a somewhat general contemporaneous history was curiously -varied and accurate. Stories of succeeding English ministries, and -even of the short-lived French cabinets, were ready to his use, and -he tactfully righted me in my errors. But he held me closest to my -memories of things among the common people, the agricultural laborers -in England, and their relation to the farmers, and theirs in turn to -the landed proprietors, and the promise which the land could give of -continued support to three classes, under the changed conditions of -modern life. All that I could remember of a typical laborer's home, -and of its manner of life, and of the general aspect of an English -farm, seemed only to whet his appetite, and to strengthen his demand -for what I knew of the continental peasantry. His interest centred -strongly in the French, and there was plainly a peculiar charm for -him in every detail which I could give of the French farmers, with -their small holdings, and their inherited habits of thrift, and of the -close culture of their lands. But he would even lead me on to speak -of great cities, and of the life in them of the rich and poor, and of -any signs, of which I knew, of growing social discontent. And with an -interest that never flagged, he questioned me on works of art; and -followed patiently, and with a zest that warmed one's own enthusiasm, -through endless churches, and long dim galleries, and by narrow, -crooked streets of a modern city to the ruins of its distant past. And -there we restored the crumbling piles, until there stood clear to his -imagination a vision of Imperial Rome, and his eyes kindled to some -great general's triumph moving through the _Via Sacra_, and the people -swarming to the very chimney-tops, their infants in their arms, and on -the air the deep, rich moving roar of high acclaim! - -Sunday was the last day of my stay on the farm. When, in the middle -of the week, I found that Mr. Hill was likely to keep me, I was -conscience-stricken, because I had not told him that my stay would -be short. He said nothing at first in reply to my announcement, but -presently remarked that it was very hard to get men in that part of the -country. - -"But, surely," I said, "more men apply to you for work than you can -possibly employ." - -He looked at me with some wonder, at my ignorance. - -"For a long time I have been looking for a man to help me," he said. -"I'm growing old, and I can't do the work that I once did. If I could -find the right man, I'd keep him the year round, and pay him good -wages. But the best young fellows go to the cities, and the rest are -mostly a worthless lot. There's hardly a day in the year when I haven't -a job for any decent man who'll ask for it. I have to go looking for -men, and then I generally can't find one that's any account." - -This was much the longest speech that he had made to me so far, and a -very interesting one I thought it, and I am only sorry that I cannot -reproduce the exact phraseology, with its Anglo-Saxon words set, by an -instinctive choice, into rugged sentences which admirably expressed the -man. I waited hopefully for further speech from him, and at last it -came, quite of its own accord; for I had given up trying to draw him -out. - -We were sitting together on Sunday evening on the platform of the -pump in front of the farm-house. It had been a very restful Sunday. In -the morning I went to the village church, where two services followed -each other in quick succession. The first was a prayer-meeting, -attended by a little company of farming people and village folk, who -conscientiously parted company at the door on the basis of sex, and sat -on opposite sides of a central aisle. - -The service was a simple one. The leader read a passage from the -Bible, and offered prayer, and then gave out a hymn. When the singing -ceased, one after another, the older men, with nervous pauses between, -rose to "testify" or sank to their knees, and prayed aloud. I chiefly -remember one as a typical figure--an old man, whose thick white hair -mingled with a bushy beard that covered his face. I noticed him first -in comfortable possession of a bench along which he stretched his legs. -On his feet were loose carpet-slippers; and with his shoulders braced -against the wall, and his head thrown back, and his eyes closed, he -looked the vision of physical ease, which matched the expression of -deep contentment that he wore. There was no suspicion of sleep about -him. Most evidently he followed with liveliest sympathy every word that -was said or sung. I looked up presently at the sound of a new voice, -and found the old man on his feet. He was adding his "testimony" to -what had gone before, and was speaking rapidly in a deep, gruff voice -with blunt articulation. There was a strong reminder in the performance -of a school-boy's "speaking his piece;" the monotonous, unnatural tone; -the rapid flow of conventional, committed phrase; and the nervous -tension, which communicated itself to his hearers in a fear that he -might forget. - -But there came at length, without calamity, the final "Pray for me -that I may be kept faithful," and then he knelt in prayer. Invocations -from the Prophets, and supplications from the Psalms, and glowing -exhortations from the Epistles, were interwoven with strangest -interpolations of his own, while his voice rose and fell in regular -cadences and he audibly caught his breath between. But he was losing -himself in his devotion, and presently his voice fell to a natural -tone, and his words grew plain and direct, as he held converse with -the Almighty about our common life--of sin and its awful guilt, of -temptation and its fateful trial, of suffering and its terrible -reality, of sorrow and its cruel mystery. Then, as though quickened -by the touch of truth, his faith rose on surer wings, and his prayer -breathed the sense of sin forgiven, and of life made strong by a power -not our own, and of hope exultant in the knowledge "of that new life -when sin shall be no more!" - -A solemn stillness held us when he rose, and made us feel the presence -in our common lot of things divine and that deep sacredness of life -which awes us most. - -A short preaching service followed. The preacher drove up on the hour -from another parish, and started off, at the meeting's end, for yet a -third appointment. - -This is a long digression from Mr. Hill's talk of the evening, and -I have said nothing yet of the afternoon. We took chairs out on the -grass in front of the cottage, after dinner, and sat in the shade. -We soon had visitors. Mr. Hill's brother and his wife walked up from -the lower farm, and a little later there came Mr. Hill's son and his -young bride. The son is a physician, whose practice covers much of -that country-side; and it was interesting to me to learn that his -professional training was got at the College of Physicians and Surgeons -in New York. - -Fearful of disturbing the family gathering, I drew off a little, and -gave my attention to a book. Late in the afternoon I was roused by -the coming of another guest. He was an old neighboring farmer out -in search of a heifer which had broken through the pasture-fence. As -he joined us he was speaking so swiftly and incoherently about the -heifer's escape that I felt some doubt of his sanity, but he quieted -down in a moment, and threw himself on the grass with the evident -purpose of resting before resuming the search. He was lying flat upon -his back, and his long bony fingers were clasped under his head. He -wore no hat, nor coat, nor waistcoat, and a dark gingham shirt lay -close to the sharp outlines of his almost fleshless body. Braces that -were patched with strings passed over his lean shoulders, and were -made fast to faded blue jeans, whose extremities were tucked into an -old pair of cowhide boots. A long white beard rested on his breast, -reaching almost to his waist. Only a thin fringe of hair remained above -his ears; and over the skull the bare skin was so tightly drawn that -you could almost trace the zigzagging junctures of the frontal and the -cranium bones. - -But skeleton as he was, he was marvellously alive. His eyes were -aflame, and prone as he lay and resting, he impressed you as a man so -vitalized, that with a single movement he could be upon his feet and -in intense activity. He was talking on about the heifer, nervously -repeating to us, again and again, the details of where he had seen her -last, and the rift which he had found in the fence, and how he had sent -his hired man in one direction, and had gone in another himself. - -He was a rich farmer, Mr. Hill told me afterward, and he lived alone, -except for an occasional hired man whom he could induce to stay with -him for a season. But even in his old age he worked on his farm -with the strength and endurance of three men, laying aside, year by -year, his store of gain. Without a single human tie he worked on as -though spurred by every claim of affection and the highest sense of -responsibility to provide for those whom he loved; and all the while a -vast misanthropy grew upon him, and he would see less and less of his -fellow-men, and an almost life-long scepticism hardened into downright -unbelief. - -So far he had not noticed me; but now he turned my way, lifting himself -upon his elbow, and fixing his sunken, burning eyes on mine, while the -white hairs of his beard mingled with the blades of grass. - -"You're hired out to Jim, ain't ye?" - -Jim was his designation of Mr. Hill. - -"Yes," I said. - -"What's he payin' you?" - -I told him. - -Mr. Hill was squirming in nervous discomfort. - -"What's your name?" - -I gave it him. - -"Where are you come from?" - -"Connecticut." - -"Connecticut? That's down South, ain't it?" - -"No, that's down East." - -"Was you raised there?" - -I do not know into what particulars of my history and of my antecedents -this process might have forced me had not the heifer come to my relief. -She was a beautiful creature, with a clean sorrel coat, and wide, -liquid, mischievous eyes; and as she ran daintily over the turf at -the side of the lane, saucily tossing her head, you knew that she was -closely calculating every chance of dodging the gawky country boy who, -breathing hard, lunged after her. - -Without a word of parting, and as abruptly as he came, the old man was -gone to head her off in the right direction at the mouth of the lane. -And so he disappeared, as strange a human being as the world holds, -living tremendously a life of strenuous endeavor, yet Godless and -hopeless and loveless in it all, except for the greedy love of gain, -which holds him in miserable bondage, as he works his life away. - -It was soon after supper that Mr. Hill and I sat down together on the -platform of the pump. There was little movement in the air, and it was -very mild for the twenty-seventh of September. As the stars appeared, -they shone upon us through a mellow warmth, like that of summer, in -which they seem magically near, and one feels their calm companionship -in human things. - -"And you've made up your mind to go in the morning?" Mr. Hill began. - -"Yes," I said, "I must be off. I am truly sorry to go. But you surprise -me by what you tell me of the difficulty in the country of getting men -to work. One hears so much about 'the unemployed,' that any demand for -labor, which remains unsupplied, seems to me an anomalous condition."[A] - -"That's a big question," he said, with a deep sigh, as he leant back -against the pump and looked at me out of blue eyes that were gray and -keen in the starlight. "It reminds me of what we used to call a hard -example in arithmetic in the district school when I was a boy. There's -a good many things you've got to take account of, if you work it out -right, and there's a good many chances of mistake, and a mistake goes -hard with your answer. I haven't worked this sum and I haven't seen it -worked, but I've studied it a good while, and I think I know how to do -parts of it." - -He paused for a moment and then went on: "In the last hundred and -fifty years there have been great changes in the world in the ways of -producing things--'improved methods of production' the books call it. -Some say it ain't really 'improved,' only faster and cheaper, but I'm -not arguing that point. The power of people to produce the necessaries -of life is a big sight greater than it was a hundred and fifty years -ago--that's my point. It's what the books call 'increased power of -production.' And among civilized people there's been this increase of -producing power in about all the forms of production. In some forms -it's been very great, and in others not so great; but I guess there -ain't many kinds of business that haven't been changed by it. - -"Now, I think that the farming business has lagged behind the -rest. Not that there ain't been improvement, for there's been -great improvement. There's the steam-ploughs, and the reapers, and -harvesters, and mowers, and the threshing-machines; and then there's -the science of agricultural chemistry. But I'm judging of what I know -of the farming business as it's carried on. - -"Now, here's my farm: it's part of a tract that my great-grandfather -settled on and cleared. I've heard my grandfather tell many a time of -the Indians that were all about here when he was a boy, and even my -father often went hunting deer down on the lake this side of the woods. - -"Well, I know this country pretty well, and I find that a farmer now -don't work any bigger farm than my grandfather did, nor the work isn't -much lighter, nor he doesn't get much more for it. There's been a -good many changes, but as the farming business goes, there ain't any -increased production that's kept up with other kinds of business when -you calculate how many farmers there are and how much they do. - -"I read in a book the other day that twenty-five men, with modern -machinery, can produce as much cotton cloth as the whole population -of Lancashire could produce in the old way; but there ain't any -twenty-five men who could work the farms of this township with all the -modern farming machinery. - -"Take it day in and day out the whole year round on the farms, and a -man's work or a team's work is pretty much what it was a hundred years -ago. - -"And here's another thing that makes a great difference between -farming and other kinds of business. When I go to the city I most -generally visit some factory and go through it as carefully as I can. -The machinery is interesting and wonderful, and if it's something -useful they're making, I like to compare the productive power of the -factory hands with what it would be if they were all working separately -by the old methods. But besides this, there's the wonderful economy -that I see. The factory is built so as to save all the carting that's -possible, and there's men always studying how they can make it more -convenient, and can improve the machinery and cut down the costs. -And then I don't find any leakage anywhere that can be helped; and -it's most wonderful what they do in some kinds of manufacturing -with what you'd think was the very refuse, working it up into some -by-product that makes the difference between profit and loss in the -whole business. It's close culture of the closest kind applied to -manufacture. - -"Sometimes I've had a chance to talk to a superintendent of a factory, -and he's told me about the business from the inside--how carefully -he must study the market and how closely he must calculate a hundred -things; and how exactly his books must be kept, and how easy it is for -a little thing that's been miscalculated or overlooked to ruin the -business. - -"I tell you that I've come to see pretty clearly that the business -that pays in these times of competition is a powerful lucky one and -powerful well managed. When the year's work is done and the wages have -been paid, and the rent and the interest on the capital paid up, and -the salaries paid to the brains that run the thing, it's a remarkable -business that's got anything over in the way of profit. - -"Now, the farming business, as I look at it, is a long way behind all -that. We don't know much about close culture in farming in America, and -I don't believe there's one farmer in five hundred that keeps books -and can tell you exactly where he stands; and these things we've got -to learn. It's terrible easy to let things go their own way pretty -much--until the fences are falling down and your buildings are out of -repair, and your tools are going to ruin with rust, and your children -are not having good advantages. You may think that you're too poor to -afford anything different and that it's economy to live so. But it -ain't; it's the worst kind of waste. It takes a sight of hard work, -brainwork, and handwork, too, to get good, substantial buildings and -fences, and tools and stock, and to keep them good and to raise your -children well. You've got to make a close calculation on every penny, -but it's the only true economy. The difference between the economy of -shabbiness and the economy of thrift is the difference between waste -and saving. - -"My father could not give me much school learning, but he learnt me to -farm it thoroughly. I've been at it a good many years now, and I know -by experience the truth of what he taught me. If there's ever been -anything more than our living at the end of the year, it's only because -we all worked hard, my wife and daughter as hard in the house as me -and my son on the farm; and because we studied to raise the best of -everything we could, and to get the best prices we could, and we saved -every penny that could be saved. - -"My son wanted to study to be a doctor when he was growing up, and so -I gave him the best schooling that he could get around here; and when -he was old enough, and I saw his mind was made up, I sent him to the -best medical college I could find. And I've given my daughter all the -schooling she's had the strength for. It's the best economy to get the -best, whether it's buildings, or tools, or stock, or education; and -there's a great deal more satisfaction in it besides. I tell you this -because it's my experience, and I know it, but I owe it mainly to the -raising my father gave me. It's hard work, and it's hard study, and -it's awful careful economy in little things as well as big, that makes -a man succeed in any business. - -"You've heard the saying that 'the luxuries of one generation are the -necessities of the next.' That's certainly true in the country. I've -heard my grandfather say that when he was a boy it didn't take more -than ten dollars a year to pay for everything that the family bought. -All that they wore and ate and drank they raised on the farm, and they -built their own buildings, and made their own tools, mostly, and worked -out most of their taxes. - -"I'm not saying that farmers must go back to that. It ain't possible. -It's every way better now to buy your cloth than to make it, and so -with your tools, and many other things; but when I see a farmer's -family spend in a year for clothes and feathers and finery as much as -ten families did for all they bought in the old days, and at the same -time their fences are falling and their stock suffering from neglect, -I see that these people don't know their business. And when I see a -farmer mortgage a piece of land to give his daughter a fashionable -wedding, and then complain that there ain't a living to be made any -more in farming, I'm sorry for him. - -"You see, in the old days the ways of farming were primitive and -simple, and the ways of living were primitive and simple, too, and they -matched each other. Now both have changed. Farming is different, and -living in the country is different. The style of living in the country -is copied from the towns, where there's been the greatest increase of -producing power; and I argue that the increase of producing power on -the farms hasn't by any means kept up to what it is in the cities. - -"Now, this difference ain't unnatural. Everybody knows that the big -fortunes of the last hundred years have mostly been made in manufacture -in the cities, and in the increase of land values in the cities, and -in the development of railroads and mines. And where the big fortunes -have been made, there's been the best chances for brains and energy -and enterprise. And where brains and energy and enterprise are at work, -there all kinds of labor will go, for it's these that make employment -for labor. - -"Now, it ain't saying anything against farmers to say that the best -brains that have been born on the farms for the last hundred years -haven't stayed on the farms. The farming business hasn't had the -benefit of them, but they've gone to the professions, and the business -in the cities, where the most money was to be made. - -"So that through all this time of 'increasing power of production' -there's been a constant drain from the country of its best brains and -blood, and it ain't strange that the farming business has lagged behind -the others which these have gone into. - -"I believe there's going to be a change. I believe the change is begun. -Competition is so keen now in about all kinds of business, that the -chances of making a fortune and making it quick are very few. There's -about so much interest to be got for your capital, and if the security -is good, the interest is very low, and there's about so much to be -got for your brains, unless you've got particular rare brains; and as -the competition grows keener, brains begin to see that there's about -as much to be made out of farming as out of other kinds of business. -Invention has done a lot already, and when the same economy and thrift -and thorough business principles are used in farming as are used in -other kinds of production, the farming business will soon catch up -with the others. And where the brains and enterprise and energy go, -labor will soon follow; and for a time anyway, there won't be as many -unemployed in the cities, nor as many farmers in the country looking -for men to work. But why are there unemployed in the cities, while -there is already a demand for men in the country? Why, because many of -the unemployed ain't fit for us to take into our homes as hired men, -and many don't know that there's such a chance for them, and many if -they do know, would sooner starve in the cities than work and live on -a farm. I've got an idea that when the farming business is developed, -there'll be a big change in country life. Where there's plenty of -brains and push and enterprise, there's likely to be excitement. - -"But it's got to come naturally; you can't pump interest into country -living by legislation. I had to laugh the other day when I was reading -a speech that Mr. John Morley made in Manchester, I think it was. -Anyway, he was arguing for parish councils, and he said that this -'gregarious instinct' that makes country people flock into towns that -are already overcrowded, is something that we ought to counteract -by making country life more interesting, and he thought that parish -councils would help to do that. Lord Salisbury got into him pretty well -a short time after, when he said in a speech that he never had thought -it was the duty of the government to provide amusement for the people, -but if _he_ was making a suggestion in that line, he would like to -recommend the circus. - -"There's another reason besides the keen competition in other kinds of -business that makes me think that farming is going to be brought up -to the others, and that is, that so many of the colleges are teaching -scientific farming. You ain't going to see any very great result from -this in a year, nor in ten years, for there's a pretty big field to -work on. But when smart young fellows that are raised in the country, -and other smart young fellows that see a good chance to make something -at farming--when they all get a thorough training in scientific -farming, and when they all get down to work, just as they would in some -other highly developed form of production, you will see results. There -won't be much in shiftless farming when the scientific kind pretty -generally sets the pace. - -"I've read a good deal, of late years, about 'organized charities' in -the cities, and it certainly does seem as if charity was a good deal -more sensible than it used to be. It's hard to see how there can be any -kind of serious destitution in the cities that ain't got some society -to relieve it. And the rich in the cities do certainly spend a powerful -lot of time and work and money in keeping up these charities and -amusements for the poor; but I don't see any signs that the poor love -the rich any more, nor that there's any less danger but that some day -they'll rise up in war against society. - -"It seems to me that a good deal of all this time, and labor, and -money, and a good deal more besides, might be better spent in providing -that no child among the poor grows up without proper education, -technical education in useful trades; especially, I think, in -scientific farming. - -"If the rich lived simpler and less showy, the poor wouldn't envy them -as much, nor feel as bitter against society, and the money that was -saved could be pretty well invested in kinds of education that would -cure poverty and destitution by preventing them, and the people that -would be thrown out of work by the economies of the rich might be a -good deal better employed in more productive work. It seems a pity, -anyway, to keep people at practically useless labor, when the brains -and the money that keep them employed in that way might be used in -keeping them at productive labor, and it's all the greater pity as long -as there's bitter want in the world for the necessaries of life." - -This, in substance, is what he said. I apologize for the injustice -of the account, its vagueness in contrast with his clearness, its -circumlocutions in contrast with his crisp sententiousness, its -weakened renderings of his vigorous forms of native speech; but I have -tried to suggest it all, and to give the sense of its manly, wholesome -spirit. - -Under the stars we sat talking until nearly midnight, and, quite -inevitably, we launched upon the subject of religion. Mr. Hill appeared -curiously apathetic, I thought, as I urged what seemed to me vital. -And when, at the end, he narrowed it all to the single inquiry as to -whether I believed in a real recognition in some future life among -those who have loved one another here, I found myself wondering, with a -feeling of disappointment, at so wide a drift from essentials, on the -part of a mind which had impressed me as so natively clear and strong. -I looked up in my surprise. Even in the starlight I could see the -tears, and from a single halting sentence, I got the hint of a daughter -dead in early childhood, and of a sorrow too deep for human speech, and -of an eager questioning of the future that was the soul's one great -desire. - -"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face; now -I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known," was -all that I could say to him, and I went to bed pitying myself for my -shallow judgment, and my ignorance of life. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[A] I have presented here, together with ideas advanced by Mr. Hill, -others secured in fragmentary conversations with various farmers by the -way. These ideas seem to me to represent a body of accordant thinking. -It is fair to say that I also found among the farmers quite another -school of thought. This I shall try to present later with equal fulness. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -IN A LOGGING CAMP - - -FITZ-ADAMS'S CAMP, ENGLISH CENTRE, LYCOMING -COUNTY, PA., Tuesday, October 27, 1891. - -In spite of the fast-falling rain, Fitz-Adams, the boss, ordered us -up at half-past four, as usual, this morning; but when breakfast was -over, the rain was too heavy to admit of our going to work. Some of the -woodsmen are gone back to bed, and some are mending their clothes in -the loft, and the rest of the gang are loafing in the "lobby," smoking, -and playing what they call "High, low, Jack and the game," except Mike, -a superb young Irishman, who, seated on a bench, with his back braced -against the window-sill, is reading a worn paper copy of one of the -Duchess's novels, which is the only book that I have so far seen in -the camp. Jennie, the head-cook and housekeeper, has given me leave to -write at one of the long tables where the gang is fed. - -It is a relief sometimes to get away from the men. There may be _ennui_ -that is more soul-destroying, but I have never known any that caused -such evidently acute suffering as the form which seizes upon workingmen -of my class in hours of enforced idleness. When the day's work is done, -they take their rest as a matter of course, and enjoy it. But a day -like this, which lays them off from work, and shuts them within doors, -furnishes awful evidence of the poverty of their lives. Most of the -men here can read, but not to one of them is reading a resource. The -men at play are in blasphemous ill-temper over the cards, and are, -apparently, on the brink of blows, while Mike is laboriously spelling -his way through a page, and nervously squirming in an effort to find -a comfortable seat. And I know, from the experience of Sundays, in -what humor the men will come down to dinner from the loft, to face an -afternoon of eternal length to them, which, in some way, must be lived -through. - -I note the contrast with their normal selves the more, because, as -a body of workmen, this is much the most wholesomely happy company -which I have so far fallen in with. We are about twenty in number, a -curiously assorted crew, all bred to the roughest life. Far up in the -mountains, miles from any settlement, we live the healthful life of -a lumber camp, working from starlight to starlight; breathing the -mountain air, keen with the frosty vigor of autumn, and fragrant of -pine and hemlock; eating ravenously the plain, well-cooked food which -is served to us, now in the camp and now on the mountain-side, where we -sit among the newly stripped logs; sleeping deeply at night in closely -crowded beds in the cabin-loft, where the wind sweeps freely from -end to end through the gaping chinks between the logs, and where, on -rising, we sometimes slip out of bed upon a carpeting of snow. This is -the life which these men know and which half-unconsciously they love, -breaking from it at times, in a passion of discontent, and spending the -earnings of months in a short, wild _abandon_ of debauch, but always -coming back again, remorseful, ashamed to meet the faces of the other -men, yet reviving as by miracle under the touch of their native life. -They charm you with their freedom of spirit, and their rude sturdiness -of character, until you find your heart warming to them with a real -affection, and feeling for them the intimate pain of personal sorrow -at sight of their cruel limitations. Away from their work, their -one notion of the necessary accompaniment to leisure is money; and -possessed of time and treasure, their first instinctive reach is after -liquor and lust. - -Even now as Fitz-Adams and his brother, in yellow oil-cloth coats and -wide tarpaulins, set out through the pouring rain in an open rig for -English Centre, there is a chorus of voices from the door and windows -of the cabin, shouting to them to bring back whiskey and plenty of it. -If they do, and the rain continues, only God knows what the camp will -be to-night. - - * * * * * * * * - -It is sixty miles, I should judge, from Pleasant Hill to Williamsport, -and it proved a two days' march. Although the distance covered must -have been about the same on both days, the difference that they each -presented in actual experience of the journey was of the kind-of -contrast which a wayfarer must expect. - -Monday was a faultless autumn day. The air was quick, and the roads -were in good condition, and I was feeling fit, and was "passing rich" -with three dollars and seventy-five cents, the wages of five days on -the farm. - -The region through which I walked was typical of the open country of -the Middle States. Over its rolling surface was the varied arrangement -of wood and field and pasture-land, with the farmers' houses and barns -attesting separate possession. There were frequent brooks and narrow -winding country roads; roads lined with zigzag rail fences and loose -stone walls, along which dwarfed birches grew, and elderberry bushes, -and sumach, with wild grape-vines and clematis creeping on the walls; -while in the coarse turf on the banks, there blossomed immortelles, and -purple aster, and golden-rod. - -Mr. Hill had given me clear directions. At the post-office of Irish -Lane I turned sharply toward Marshall's Hollow, and passed on the -way a camp-meeting ground, where deep in the shadows of a grove -stood numbers of rough wooden huts; grouped in chance community, and -little suggesting in the weird stillness of desertion, the sounds of -revival worship, with which they are made to ring through a part of -every summer. At Harveyville I turned abruptly up the hillside in the -direction of Cambra. It was high noon when I reached that village, and -I was but a few miles beyond it, on the way to Benton, when I stopped -to get something to eat. It was the evident poverty of the house where -I stopped that interested me. I knew that there was no hope of earning -a meal at such a place, but I could pay for what I ate, and I was sure -of being less of an annoyance there than at some well-to-do farmer's -house. - -The cottage was an unpainted wooden shell, and, like it, the corn-crib -and pig-pen and little barn beyond seemed tottering to a fall. Faded -leaves of a woodbine, that climbed upon the cottage, were thick -about the door-way, and lay strewn by the wind upon the bare floor -within. There was but one room on the ground floor, and a stove and -a sewing-machine and a small wooden chest were all its furniture. I -knocked at the open door. Through an opposite one, communicating with a -lean-to, a woman appeared. She was large and muscular, but in her face -was the sickly pallor of ill-nourishment, and her hair was dishevelled, -and the loose, ragged dress which she wore was covered with dark, -greasy stains. - -I asked for bread and milk; she explained that the family had just -finished dinner, but that she could give me something, if I would wait, -and she invited me to a seat on the chest. - -I drew from my pack an unfinished newspaper, and as I read I could -feel innumerable eyes upon me. Through the cracks in the door, and the -ragged breaks in the plaster, came the inquisitive gaze of children's -eyes, and I could hear their eager whispers as a swarm of children -crowded one another for possession of the best peep-holes. - -Their mother asked me in, and set before me, on a table littered with -remnants of dinner, a pitcher of fresh milk and some huge slices -of coarse bread, a large yellow bowl, and a pewter tablespoon. The -children stared at me as I ate, and I tried to form an accurate -estimate of their number, but despaired when, after I thought that -I had distinguished eight, I found my estimate upset by sudden -apparitions of faces hitherto unrecognized. The oldest child seemed -not more than twelve, and the youngest lay asleep in a cradle near the -stove, where its mother could rock it as she worked. They all were as -ragged and dirty as the children of the slums, but they had nothing -of the vivacity of these, nor of the quick adjustment to changing -circumstances which gives to children, bred upon the street, their -first hold upon your interest. - -Stolid and wide-eyed they stood about the room, intently watching me, -moving here and there for new points of view; until their mother, who -had showed no wish to talk as she washed the dishes, now broke the -silence with a sounding cuff upon the ear of a little boy, as, with a -loud command, she sent him sobbing into the back yard to fetch her wood. - -The children scattered instantly, except a little girl with flaxen -hair and grotesquely dirty face, who clung to her mother's skirts, and -seemed to hamper her immeasurably; the more so as the baby had wakened -in the noise, and had begun to cry. I grew sick with fear of what was -coming next, but the mother's mood had changed; for catching the crying -baby in her arms, she almost smothered it with kisses, and sitting down -she fondled it, and gently stroked the head of the child beside her. - -It was a veritable country slum, with nearly all the barren squalor of -a crowded tenement. You thought of life in it as some hard necessity, -from which all choice and spontaneity are gone. And so in great part -it must have been, and the wonder was the stronger at sight of the -instinct of mother love, springing like a living fountain in an arid -plain. - -The village of Benton wore a preoccupied air when I entered it. I soon -found the cause in an auction sale of horses in the stable-yard of the -tavern. The horses huddled close, as if for common protection, in an -angle formed by the buildings. They were watched by a mounted rider, -whose duty it was to prevent any from breaking loose. A small crowd -of farmers and village men, all of them coatless and in their working -clothes, formed a semicircle about the animals. The surrounding doors -and windows were full of women's faces, alive with interest in the -progress of events; and children perched upon the fences, or dodged in -and out among the groups of men. A fat and ruddy auctioneer walked back -and forth excitedly before the crowd, loudly repeating a call for bids; -or having caught one, running it rapidly through changes of inflection -and intonation, until a fresh bid started him anew on his flight of -varying tones, which ended at last in the dying cadences of "Going! -going! gone!" - -Presently I found a man who was so far unoccupied by the sale as to -have leisure to direct me on my way. Taking his advice I started for -Union Church and Unityville. In the outskirts of Benton, as I left -the village, an urchin sat upon the door-step of a cottage, idly -beating about him with a stick, consoling himself apparently as best -he could for not having been allowed to go to the sale. The sight of -a tramp with a pack upon his back diverted him; and far as the sound -could carry there came following me, as I climbed the hill beyond the -village, his shouts of "Git there, Eli!" - -The contrast with Monday's march appeared at once on Tuesday morning. -The clouds which were threatening when I made an early start grew more -threatening while I walked on, and they broke in torrents of rain as I -entered Lairdsville, with Williamsport still twenty-four miles away. - -A tavern gave me shelter, but presently the rain slackened and I made -up my mind to push on to Williamsport in spite of the storm, for my -letters were there; and once on the road with your mail definitely in -view, you grow highly impatient of delays. - -An hour's rain had worked great changes in the roads. Hard and dusty -when I set out in the early morning, they were quagmires now and were -running with muddy streams. The rain pelted my face and dripped through -my ragged hat, and trickled down my back and washed into my boots. I -was a dangerous-looking vagrant when I reached Hughesville at noon. I -walked rapidly through the village street in some fear of arrest, but -the storm had passed, and I soon learned the road to Williamsport by -way of Hall's Landing. - -Splashing wearily along the heavy roads with that awful load chafing my -back, I knew vaguely that I was passing through an exceedingly rich and -beautiful farming region, but my interest was all in the surest footing -to be found, and it was with glad relief that late in the afternoon I -stepped upon the solid pavements of the town. - -I had been told, on the road, of a laborer's cottage in Church Street -where cheap board and lodging could be had. From the post-office I -readily found my way to this cottage, and was soon propped up in bed -reading my letters, while the laborer's wife hung up my clothes to dry -in the kitchen and put my boots under the stove. - -In the morning all the brilliance of the clear, cold autumn had -returned. It was such a day as seems to emerge renewed with fresh and -ample vigor from the cleansing of a storm. - -The streets presented a really singular picture. The town itself is -the conventional American, provincial, manufacturing centre, with its -business portion built up in "brick blocks," which are innocent of -any attraction but utility. From this quarter it shades gradually, in -one direction, into the workshops and cottages of the region of the -proletariat, and in another into the wide, well-shaded avenues where -are the somewhat ostentatious homes and churches of the well-to-do. - -Long lines of booths now crowded the curves about the central public -square and reached far down the communicating streets. In these booths -the farming people of the surrounding country sold their fruits and -garden vegetables, and butter and eggs and poultry; and white-aproned -butchers spread their meats in tempting array. It was an Oriental -bazaar in all but color and the highly pitched jabber of Eastern -bargaining. But still more perfect as a reproduction of foreign scenes -were the groups of women who, with colored shawls tied round their -heads and falling about their shoulders, sat on the steps of public -buildings with baskets of provisions about them and talked among -themselves, and came to terms with customers in their oddly mixed -vernacular. - -It recalled at once the Platz of a German city thronged by peasant -women on market days, only here, too, was a lack of color. The women -were unmistakably Teutonic. All had the generous contour of countenance -which approaches to a family likeness in a whole race of peasantry, -but the red of the old country complexion had faded to our prevailing -pallor. - -In spite of a large foreign element, or in virtue of it, I do not know -which, the town itself is aggressively American. The fact that some -hundreds of million feet of lumber come each year from its mills gives -to it great importance as a lumber centre. And the good fortune of this -form of industry the city certainly shows in its freedom from the usual -begriming effects of manufacture on a large scale. - -In one of the morning papers of the town I found the spirit of the -place expressed in a reported speech of a local celebrity, an ex-member -of Congress. The chief burden of it was the note of congratulation to -the people of the town on their progress and prosperity, as indicated -in their electric lights and rapid transit system, and in their growing -industries and increasing numbers, which, he declared, "had passed the -stopping-point." - -But I must hurry on. Early on Friday afternoon, October 9th, I set out -from Williamsport, with Oil City as my next objective point. I had no -money, but this did not disturb me, for I was entering the open country -and felt sure of finding work. The road lay along the fertile river -bottom and then began to climb the range of hills which walls in the -valley on the north. The lasting impression here is of a region of most -uncommon natural wealth. Many square miles of farms come into the range -of vision; the soil looks like a deep, rich loam. And a like impression -comes to you from the opposite bank of the river, where the land lies -flat to the foot of the southern range of hills. - -From such a vantage ground you see at a glance how the river, shut in -by these barriers, could have risen to so great a height in the flood -of 1889 and have worked such appalling disaster. - -There are constant references to "the flood" among the inhabitants of -the valley, and it plainly holds for them the place of a chronological -mark not unlike that held farther East by the "blizzard" of 1888, -only it sounds not a little odd at first to hear common reference to -antediluvian events. - -Presently I came to a road which forked at Linden to the right, and -made in the direction of a gap in the hills. Its general course seemed -westward, and so I followed it. An hour or two later it had led me -into a forest, where the sunlight was fast fading. I was intent on the -question of finding work before nightfall, when I heard the rumble of -wheels behind me, and a voice singing a German song. - -I looked up as the wagon came alongside. The horses were walking -slowly up the hill, and a young man lounged at leisure on the seat. -His legs were crossed, and the reins lay loosely in one hand. A light, -wide-brimmed felt hat was pushed back on his crown, and from under the -rim the yellow hair rested on his forehead. He was singing from sheer -lightness of heart; and young and strong and handsome as he was, he -made you think of Alvary in his part of _Siegfried_. - -"Have a ride?" he called to me, and there was no trace of foreign -accent in his speech. - -"Thank you," I said; and in another moment my pack was in the bottom of -the wagon and I on the seat beside the driver. - -"Where are you going?" - -"I'm looking for a job." - -"You want work on a farm?" - -"Yes, that or any other kind of work that I can get." - -"Well, there ain't much doing on the farms now. I don't know nobody -that's looking for a hired man. There's Abe Potter, I heard him say -as how he wanted to hire a man to work for him all winter; but Miss' -Potter, she told my wife last night that he'd got Jim Hale's boy, Al, -to live out to him. Say, did you ever work in the woods?" - -"No." - -"Well, there's plenty of work in the woods. It's a rough life, but it -ain't so bad when you're used to it. I worked in the woods before I -was married. I could go out to the woods now, and earn two dollars a -day and my keep; but my wife wouldn't let me. And it's a pretty rough -life, only I come to like it. But I've got my farm now, and my wife and -children; and her old folks lives with us, and I've got to stay to -home, and take care of things. Say, where are you going to-night?" - -"I don't know. I'll try to find some place to stay where I can help -with the work to pay for my keep; and then to-morrow I'll go to the -woods, and try to get a job." - -"I tell you, stranger, you stay at my house to-night, and in the -morning you can go to English Centre. I guess you'll get a job on one -of the camps." - -My thanks could have expressed but little of the gratitude I felt. -I shared his light-hearted mood at once, and was a very interested -and attentive listener to the narrative of his early life; his -disagreements with his father, and how he had inherited the farm from -him burdened with debt, but had almost paid the mortgages, and had his -eye now upon a neighbor's farm with a view to purchasing that. - -He was singing again as we drove up the lane toward his home, and -was plainly expectant. The cause was clear when two children, a girl -and boy of about six and four, came running toward the wagon, with -excited cries of welcome. They drew up sharply at sight of a stranger, -and their father loudly greeted them with a medley of affectionate -diminutives in English and German, until they lost their fear, and -began to talk rapidly with him in the quaintest German, which sounded -as though it might be one with the strange dialects which you see in -_Fliegende Blätter_. - -I helped to unhitch the horses, and then asked whether there was more -that I could do. There were apples to be picked up from under the trees -in the orchard, and I worked at this task until dark, when there came -the call to supper. - -After that meal the children were put to bed, and the rest of us -gathered in the kitchen, where a large open fire burned, and an -oil-lamp lent its light. An "apple-butter making" was to be the feature -of the next day's work, and we spent the evening in getting ready for -it. - -We sat in a semicircle in front of the fire, first the farmer's wife, -and then the patriarchal grandfather, who was almost deaf, and was -known to all the household by the not euphonious name of "Gross-pap," -and next to him the grandmother, and last the guest. The farmer himself -sat at a table near us, briskly working an apple-peeler, while the rest -of us removed the cores, and cut the apples into small sections. - -It was a very comfortable place which I seemed to have found in the -household. I was taken in with natural hospitality, and the family -life moved on unhampered by my presence, while I, a welcome guest, -could sit and watch it at my ease. - -The old man had every excuse for silence, and he and his wife spoke -rarely, and always in their native tongue, but they evidently -understood English perfectly. The farmer and his wife spoke English to -each other, and spoke it as though born to its use, but they used that -quaint German dialect in talking with the old people and the children. - -The wife was a plain woman, inclined to fretfulness, I thought, and -she had a certain air with her husband, which is not uncommon to plain -women whose husbands are distinctly handsome. She had little to say, -but she listened attentively to the farmer's talk. - -He was entertainment for us all. Good-looking, high-spirited, manly -fellow--in perfect unconsciousness of self, he talked on with the -genial freedom of a true man of the world. - -His trip to Williamsport was a fruitful theme, and no least event of -the journey was without its interest. He told us of the neighbors whom -he met on the road, and all of his conjectures regarding their probable -errands. He had taken a load of vegetables to town, and now recounted -every sale and purchase, for he had been charged with many commissions. -One was the purchase of braid for his wife's new dress. He was full of -good-humor at each fresh departure in his tale; but, for some reason, -the story of this last commission pleased him most. With high regard -for circumstantial detail, he told it to us at least five times, and -ended every narrative with a beaming smile, and the unvarying remark -that "I'd have got it wider if I'd only known," to which his wife -replied each time with unfaltering insistence upon the last word: "But -you might have known." - -In the morning he was as cheerful as on the night before, and he put me -in high spirits as, with many good wishes for my success, he told me -again how sure he was that I could find work in the woods. - -At Salladasburg I stopped for further directions about the way to -English Centre; and the tavern-keeper, at whose door I inquired, -confirmed me strongly in my expectation of ready employment. - -An old plank road lead me through a mountain-pass, and along the course -of a stream, far into the interior. The earlier miles of the march were -among mountains that had long been stripped of all valuable timber, and -that now stood ragged and uncouth in their new growths, and in the -blackened remnants of forest fires. - -Here there were a few scattered farms; stony and of thin soil, where, -for fences, uptorn stumps of trees had been placed side by side, with -their twisted roots so interwoven as to form an impenetrable barrier. - -A caravan of gypsies met and passed me; but except for these, the road -was almost deserted, and seemed to be leading into yet lonelier regions. - -Mountains now succeeded, on which the forests were untouched, and -which, in autumn colors, were like huge mounds of foliage plant, so -richly did the gorgeous hues of the maple-trees and chestnuts and -beeches blend with the dark greens of hemlock and pine. - -At a little after noon I came quite suddenly upon an iron bridge that -crossed the wide bed of a mountain-stream, which was little more than -a brook now, but gave evidence of rising, at times, to the volume -and strength of a torrent. A large tavern stood near the bridge, and -beyond it, to the right, was a huge tannery which plainly provided the -chief industry of the place. The village street was lined with rows of -wooden cottages, each an unpainted duplicate of its neighbor, and all -eloquent, I thought, of the monotony of the life which they held. - -I went at once to the post-office, and there learned that my journey -was by no means at an end; for the lumber camps were yet some miles -farther in the mountains. The camp of "Wolf Bun" was mentioned as an -important one, where work was plenty, and I set out at once for that. - -I was tired and not a little hungry; for this mountain-air acts always -as a whet upon your appetite, and I had eaten nothing since the early -morning, and had already walked some fifteen miles. But the camp road, -although rough, was easy to follow, and I found much satisfaction in -dramatizing my approach to some short-handed employer, who would take -me on at once. I dwelt longingly on supper and a restful night and -Sunday in the camp, and thought hopefully of the work to be begun on -Monday morning. - -And then there was a peculiar interest in meeting lumbermen on the way. -Some were teamsters, who sat high in air on top of immense loads of -bark, which they were carting to the tannery. Many of these wore wide -sombreros, and jackets made of blanket stuff in gay plaids. Others were -on foot, small companies of four and five together, walking to the -village, for it was Saturday afternoon. - -I was prepared for some degree of roughness in a lumber camp, and in -the woodsmen themselves, but there was something in the appearance -of these men whom I met that hinted at my not having guessed all -the truth. I judged of roughness by what I knew of the gang at West -Point, and in the sewer ditch at the Asylum, but here was something -of a widely different kind from the hardness of broken-spirited, -time-serving laborers. Instinctively you knew these men for men; and -I respectfully kept silence, and looked to them for greeting, and got -none. - -When you, a total stranger, try to meet the questioning gaze of five -strong men at once, all of them sturdy and lean, and deeply lined in -face and keen of eye, there is bred in you a vague unease, not of fear, -but an answering to that wonder as to what you are and what you are -doing there. I was conscious then only of the disturbing of my earlier -confidence in entering the woods. I could not analyze the look which -met me, but now I know it for meaning, reft of its strongest words, -"Who in ---- are you? Gospel sharks we know, and camp cooks, and honest -Jew pedlers who get our wages from us for their brass-gold watches and -glass jewels, but such a ----! ----! ----! ----! ----! ----! as you, we -never saw before." - -It was about the middle of the afternoon when a turn in the -mountain-road brought to view a cluster of log-cabins, which I knew to -be the camp of Wolf Run. The cabins were splendid buildings of their -kind. The logs were clean and fresh and were securely fitted, while the -chinks were well plastered with mud, and the roofs tightly shingled, -and the gables closely boarded-up. - -No one was in sight from where I stood; but there issued, from one of -the smaller cabins, the ring of a blacksmith's hammer, and I found a -group of men about the cabin-door. - -The camp stood in a little clearing on the mountain; and in contrast -with the shadowy gloom in the forest around it, the sunlight flooded -this open rift with concentrated light. The chestnut-trees on the edge -of the wood shone like burnished gold, and the maple leaves, still -green, nearest to the trees, and but lightly touched with red along the -boughs, deepened gradually, until, in the full sunlight, they blazed -in crimson splendor. It was still with the stillness of autumn, and -the sound of the blacksmith's stroke and the answering ring of the -anvil were echoed far into the forest, where you could hear, fretting -down its stony bed, a mountain-stream, which, in the speech of the -lumbermen, is called a "run." - -I had slipped the pack from my back, and carrying it in my hand I went -up to a group of men. One of them stood leaning against the door-post. -He was very tall and straight, and under his wide sombrero, the upper -forehead was white and smooth as a girl's. The brows were arched above -dark-brown eyes, and his nose was straight and sharply chiselled; the -cheeks were lean and ruddy brown; and under a light mustache was a -clean-cut, shapely mouth that answered in strength to a well-rounded, -slightly protruding chin. His hands were thrust into the side-pockets -of a bright blanket jacket, and his dark trousers were tucked into a -pair of top-boots, that were laced over the insteps and up the outer -sides of the legs. - -All the men were eying me with that disturbing look; even the -blacksmith had quit his work and joined them. In the questioning -silence I summoned what courage I had, and walked up to young Achilles -at the cabin-door, and thus addressed him: - -"Is this the camp of Wolf Run?" - -"Yes." - -"Is Mr. Benton here?" [Benton is my version of the superintendent's -name.] - -"No, he's in English Centre." - -"Is the camp boss here?" [That was a rash plunge on my part, but it was -successful.] - -"Yes, that's him," and Achilles' head nodded slightly in the direction -of the largest cabin. From the door nearest us there stepped an elderly -man of massive frame, bent slightly forward, and with arms so long that -the hands seemed to reach to his knees. He was dressed in an old suit -of dark material--a long-tailed coat that fitted very loosely, and -baggy trousers--and a soiled linen shirt and collar, and a black ribbon -necktie. His face was very set and stern, not with an expression of -unkindness, simply the face of a man to whom life is a serious matter, -and who means business all the time. - -He was evidently absorbed, and, carrying an iron bar, he was about to -enter the forge with no least notice of any of us, when I interrupted -him. - -"I beg your pardon, sir, I understand that you are the boss." - -He stood still, and looked down upon me out of keen black eyes from -under shaggy brows that bristled with coarse hairs; and in the -deepening silence, I wondered what I should say next. - -"I'm looking for a job, and I heard in English Centre that men were -wanted here." - -"Have you ever worked in the woods?" - -"No." - -"Then you'll not get work in the woods this side of hell." - -He moved on at once, and the blacksmith followed him into the shop. -I was left standing in the midst of the other men, who had listened -intently, and were now soberly enjoying the quality of that _bon mot_, -and were eyeing me in leisurely curiosity. - -Again I appealed to Achilles: - -"Is there another camp near here?" - -"There's Long's Camp, a quarter of a mile up the run," and a slight -inclination of his head indicated the way. - -Mr. Long did not want me, and knew of no one who might, if I was not -wanted at Wolf Run, unless, on second thought, I could get a job at -Fitz-Adams's Camp. - -"And where is that?" I asked. - -"You remember a road which forked to the left about two mile back as -you came up from English Centre?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, you follow that road about two mile and a half, and you'll come -to Fitz-Adams's Camp." - -The road was the roughest that I had so far travelled. It cut its -way along the sheer side of the mountain, following the course of the -run. Presently I came to a small log cabin, where, in a little yard -beside it, a cow was munching straw, and in front, a fat sow wallowed -in a pool in the middle of the road. An old Irishman, who sat on the -door-step, told me that I was not half a mile from the camp. - -There was a stout log dam on the run a little farther up, but the gates -were open and only a slender stream flowed through the muddy bottom, -for the dam was undergoing repairs. Near by was a cabin large enough -for a score of lumbermen. - -The sun had sunk behind the mountain a good half hour before; not even -the trees on the summits were lighted up with its setting rays, and the -still, clear air bit you with a sudden chill. All the confidence which -I had felt in the morning was gone; it was a very tired and hungry, a -sobered and a chastened proletaire, that at length caught sight, in the -gloom, of Fitz-Adams's Camp. - -It stood in a clearing like the camp of Wolf's Run. On the highest area -was a long, stout log cabin, to which there was given an added air of -security by an earth embankment, which sloped from the ground to the -lower logs all around the building, as a means of preventing the air -from sweeping under the floors. A door was in the end of the cabin -nearest me, and a window was cut in the boarded gable above. A wooden -block served as a step to the door, and near this a grindstone swung -in its frame. On the outer walls of the cabin were tacked some half -dozen advertisements on tin, bidding you, in black letters on an orange -background, "Chew----Cut." Over a rough bridge that crossed the run -near the cabin, I could faintly see one or two other smaller buildings -like it, which proved to be the blacksmith's shop, and the stable for -the teamsters' horses. The mountain-road continued its course past the -main cabin, and disappeared among the trees in the gorge. So narrow -was the ravine, that the mountain rose abruptly from one side of the -cabin, and in much the same manner from the bank of the run on the -opposite side, leaving a valley scarcely thirty yards in width. The -larger timber had been cut away, but the mountain-sides, all about the -clearing and the road, were dense with poplar, and white-barked birch -and chestnut, and the younger growths of evergreen. - -There was perfect quiet in the camp; not a living thing was to be seen -or heard. I went up to the nearest door, and knocked. There was no -answer. I knocked again, and still there was no answer. At the side, -far to the rear, I found another door, and knocked there. It opened -instantly, and in the twilight I could faintly see a young woman in a -dark print dress. - -"Is this Fitz-Adams's Camp?" - -"Yes." - -"Is Mr. Fitz-Adams here?" - -And then in louder voice over her shoulder into the darkness behind her: - -"Say, Jim, here's a man that wants you." - -There was the sound of heavy footsteps upon the wooden floor, and in -another moment Fitz-Adams stood framed in the door-way. - -I was standing on the ground, quite two feet below, and looking up at -him in that uncertain light, he seemed to me gigantic. A great muscular -frame fairly filled the door. He was dressed in a suit of light-gray -corduroy, a flannel shirt, a dark felt hat, and top-boots, and I -could see that he was young and not unhandsome, although of a very -different type of good looks from those of Achilles. His large, round -head rested close upon a trunk that was massive yet quite splendidly -shapely, and highly suggestive of agility and strength. His face was -round, and the features full and of uncertain moulding, but you did not -miss the evidence of strength in his thick, firm lips and the clear, -unfaltering eyes with their expression of perfect unconsciousness of -self. He was plainly Irish, but quite as plainly of American birth, -which was clear when he spoke. - -"I'm looking for a job," I began, "and I've come to see whether I can -get one here." - -"Who sent you?" - -"They told me in Long's Camp that I might get a job here." - -"They didn't want you, and so they sent you to me, eh?" - -"They said that they didn't need more men there." - -"Oh, they did, did they? And you've worked in the woods before, I -suppose?" - -"No, but I have worked at other kinds of work, and if you'll give me a -chance you can see what I can do, and then you can discharge me if you -don't want me." - -"Well, there's lots of work in this camp, Buddy. I don't guess from the -cut of you and the way you talk, that you know much about it. But you -can stay, and I'll see what's in you on Monday. Look lively now, and -split some of that wood, and build a fire in the lobby." - -A pile of dry wood which had been sawed into lengths of two feet, lay -near the kitchen-door. On top of the pile was an axe; and as quickly -as I could, I split up an armful, and carried it around to the front of -the cabin and into the lobby. Near the centre of this room, which is -the loafing-place for the men, was an iron stove long enough to admit -the sticks which I had cut. It was the work of a minute to arrange -some chips in the bottom of the stove, and to pile the wood loosely on -top of these. I was about to touch a match to the finer stuff, when -Fitz-Adams appeared with a tin can in his hand. He bent over the stove, -and opening the door wide, he tossed in the contents of the can, and -the room was instantly full of a strong odor of kerosene. - -In another moment the fire was blazing like mad, and roaring up the -stove-pipe, and fast turning the old cracked stove red hot, but -Fitz-Adams stood by in perfect unconcern, and presently departed in the -direction of the kitchen. - -I began to look about me in the light that shone through the gleaming -cracks. Swift shadows were chasing one another over the walls and -ceiling, and I soon grew familiar with a room about twelve feet deep, -and which extended the width of the cabin. The floor was bare, and -was very damp with the Saturday's scrubbing, as were also the benches -which reached all round the walls. Besides the stove, the only piece -of furniture that the room contained was a heavy table, about four feet -square, which stood close to the benches in one corner, and directly -under the single window of the room, which was a small opening in the -logs, fitted with four panes of glass. A rough wooden staircase led -from the near corner through an opening in the ceiling to the loft; and -a door was cut through the thin board partition which separates the -lobby from the large room in the body of the cabin, where the men are -fed, and where I am writing now. The logs that formed the outer walls -of the room had been rough-hewn to a plane; and along these walls, on -two sides of the room, was a line of nails, on which hung coats and -hats and flannel shirts and overalls. On the partition-wall there was -nailed a small mirror with a little shelf below, on which lay a comb. -Near this were three wooden rollers, and over them as many towels, -large and coarse and fresh from the wash. - -I found a dry spot on the bench near the stove, and shoving my pack -under me, I sat down, facing the outer door, and awaited developments. - -It had grown quite dark Without. The young woman who met me at the -kitchen-door now came in with a small oil-lamp, which she placed on -the shelf near the mirror. I began to think that the men must all have -left the camp for Sunday, and my spirits rose at the thought of an easy -initiation into camp life. But I was soon roused from this revery by -the sound of many footsteps approaching the cabin, and the deep, gruff -voices of men. - -The wooden latch lifted, the heavy door swung open, and there came -trooping in a crew of fifteen lumbermen, all dripping water from their -hair and faces and hands, for they were fresh from the evening wash in -the run. They went first to the towels, and then formed in line for -their turns at the mirror, where the comb was passed from hand to hand. - -Fifteen pairs of wet, blinking eyes were fixed on me, and I was obliged -to meet each searching gaze in turn. But when this ordeal was passed, I -began to feel a little at my ease, for the men ignored me completely. -The air with which they turned away from the inspection seemed to say: -"There is something exceedingly irregular in there being in the camp so -abnormal a specimen as this, but the way in which to treat the case, at -least for the present, is to let it alone." It was precisely the manner -of well-bred men toward, let us say, some inharmonious figure in their -club, whose presence is for the moment unaccounted for. - -As they finished their preparation for supper, the men crowded about -the stove to warm their hands, chilled by the cold ablution. Chiefly -they talked shop about the day's work, but in terms that were often -unintelligible to me, and the sentences were surcharged with oaths. I -watched them with deep personal interest, and pictured myself in line, -and wondered whether I should ever be so fortunate as to find a clean, -dry section on a towel, or come early to the much-used comb. - -The last man had barely completed his toilet when the door in the -partition opened, and a woman's voice announced supper. Instantly there -was loud shuffling of heavy boots on the bare floor, and a momentary -press about the door, and then we were soon seated at one of the two -long tables in the mess-room of the cabin, and there arose a clatter of -hungry men feeding, and the hubbub of their talk. - -The meal was excellent. Its chief dish was corned beef and cabbage, and -there were boiled potatoes and boiled beans besides, with abundance of -home-made white bread, and strong hot tea. - -My seat was last in the row on one side of the table. The end seat was -unoccupied, and my nearest neighbor ignored me; I was free to satisfy a -well-developed appetite, and grow more familiar with my surroundings. - -First of all I ate a very hearty supper. The food was admirably cooked, -and was served with a high degree of cleanness. The oil-cloth, of -marble design, which covered the table was spotless, and the rude, -coarse service, befitting a camp, had all been thoroughly washed. It -is true that the men were without their coats, most of them with their -waistcoats off, but these are men whose work is of the cleanest, and -there was nothing in all the setting of the supper to mar a healthy -appetite; there was much, I thought, that really heightened the -pleasure of eating. - -The conversation ran on as it had begun in the lobby. There was much -talk about the progress of the work, and gossip about neighboring -camps, and proposals for the disposing of Sunday; and it struck me with -swift terror that the presence of the three young women, who waited -on the table, was no least check to profanity. The talk never rose to -the pitch of excitement, it was the mere give and take of ordinary -conversation, and yet there mingled in it the blackest oaths. With a -curse of eternal perdition upon his lips, a man would speak to his -neighbor of some casual incident of the day, and would end his sentence -with a volley of nameless insults and hideous blasphemies. This was -their common language. With no realization of what they did, they flung -eternal curses and foul insults at one another in lightest banter. - -Half an hour later we had all returned to the lobby. The teamsters lit -their lanterns, and went to care for the horses. Some of the men went -up into the loft. Four had soon started a game of cards at the table, -while most of the others filled the bench near the stove, or drew empty -beer-kegs and old soap-boxes from their hiding, and completed the -circle around the fire. Everyone was smoking, and all seemed highly -content. - -I was crowded in between a lank young fellow with dark hair and eyes, -and a long, lean nose, who was swearing comfortably at a gawky youth -across the stove, and an older man, of heavier build, who had fine -black eyes and a black mustache, a very pale complexion, and long black -hair that lay in pasty ringlets about his face and on his neck. - -Soon I came to know these two as "Long-nosed Harry" and "Fred the -Barber." I should explain at once that the camps have a curious -nomenclature of their own. As among other workingmen whom I have known, -so here, only a man's Christian name is used, but it is nearly always -accompanied with an explanatory phrase. A new-comer in the camp is -called "Buddy" until his name is learned, and some appropriate epithet -is found, or until a nickname springs complete from the mysterious -source of those appellatives. - -I knew that Fred the Barber was making ready to speak to me, and I was -on my guard, when, while the talk was running high, I heard a voice -close to my ear: - -"Say, Buddy, you ain't a pedler, are you?" - -"No." - -"I thought you warn't." And Fred the Barber settled farther down upon -his seat, and folded his arms, and puffed in silence on his pipe, with -the air of a man who finds deep satisfaction in his own sagacity. Soon -he returned to the cross-examination. - -"Say, Buddy, are you going to work in the woods?" - -"Yes, the boss took me on this evening." - -"Ain't you never worked in the woods before?" His pipe was out of his -mouth now, and his eyes shone with a livelier interest. - -"No." - -"How's that?" - -"Why, I'm working my way out West, and my money gave out in -Williamsport; and when I went looking for a job, I was told that I -could get work in the woods. So I came up here." - -"Well, you ain't struck a soft snap, Buddy. Jim the Boss is a square -man, but he can beat the devil at work, and he don't go easy on a new -hand. This is my tenth season in the woods, and I earn two dollars a -day right along; but I'm going to quit, it's too rough." - -There was a sudden commotion just then, for the outer door had opened -to the touch of a young woodsman, who, standing sharply defined against -the black night, regarded the company with a radiant smile. He was -the finest specimen of them all; not much over twenty, I should say, -and grown to a good six feet of height, and as straight as the trees -among which he worked. Through the covering of rough clothes you felt -with delight the curves of his splendid figure, and the sinewy muscles -in symmetrical development. And then the lines of his throat and neck -were so clean and strong, and his face charmed you with its fresh -beauty, and its expression of frank joyousness. No wonder that he was -a favorite in the camp. The men were rising from their seats, and the -air was full of welcome, while he stood there for a moment, his teeth -gleaming as he smiled, and his eyes shining with delight. - -[Illustration: THE MEN WERE RISING FROM THEIR SEATS, AND THE AIR WAS -FULL OF WELCOME.] - -There rose a tumult of loud voices: - -"I'm eternally lost, if it ain't Dick the Kid!" "Dickie, me boy, you -God-forsaken whelp, are ye drunk?" "You ain't spent it all in two days, -have you, Dick?" "Shut that lost door, and sit down by this condemned -fire, you ill-begotten cur, and eternal torment be your lot!" "Tell us -what hellish thing brings you here, you blessed boy, and why--ripe for -endless misery as you are--why ain't you in Williamsport?" - -The smile did not fade from Dick's face, as with easy deliberation -he took a seat on a beer-keg and looked at the crew with answering -affection in his eyes. - -"I'm forever lost if I've been to Williamsport," he began. "And I -ain't drunk a drop, you perjured hell-hounds of shameless begetting. -I've got all my reprobate stuff with me except the two God-condemned -dollars that it's cost me to live at the Temperance House in English -Centre, where you can get for a quarter the best meal that any of you -unveracious ones, you food for unquenchable fire, ever ate." - -God help us! it was like that, only a great deal worse, until the -blessed stillness of the night fell upon the camp. - -For an hour or more Dick the Kid sat talking to the other men. A -stranger in English Centre had fired his ambition for the lumber-camps -in the mountains somewhere in West Virginia, and Dick was freely -imparting his plans--how he meant to beat his way to Harrisburg and -then to Pittsburg, and so on to his destination, hoarding, the while, -his savings of about sixty-five dollars, as capital to launch him in a -new enterprise, where he was sure that more money could be made than -here. - -The men listened in rapt attention, knowing perfectly that Williamsport -was the destined end of Dick's journey, and that the dram-shops there -and brothels would get every dollar to the last; yet charmed by his -fresh enthusiasm, which touched a hidden memory, or gave momentary -flight to some new-fledged hope that fluttered in their breasts. He was -so young and strong and handsome, so full of life, so rich in native -gifts that win and hold affection with no thought of effort! One knew -it from the clear, keen joyance of the man, and the power which he -had to hold the others, and to draw out their hardy sympathy. I could -endure the sight no longer; I went out to the mountain-road, and -waited where I thought that Dick would pass. - -He was startled when I stopped him, and instinctively he clenched his -fists. For a moment I had a vivid sense of my physical insignificance, -as I realized how easily, with a single blow, he could smash in my -countenance and make swift end of me. - -"I'm a new man in the camp," I began. "The boss took me on this -evening. I was interested in what you said about going to West -Virginia, and I wanted to ask you more about it. Have you ever been -there?" - -"No." - -"You are sure that there's a good chance for a man there?" - -"It's all straight, Buddy, if that's what you mean." - -I told him frankly what I meant, but he was still on his guard, and -presently he broke in abruptly with - -"Say, Buddy, you're a sky-pilot, ain't you?" - -We walked on together for a mile or more, and Dick grew friendly, and -I lost my heart to him completely. Only once Dick warmed a little at a -question from me. Perhaps I had no right to ask it upon so slight an -acquaintance; but as there was little prospect of my ever seeing him -again, I asked him if he felt no sense of wrong in using lightly the -name of the Almighty. - -I can see him now as he stood against the blackness of the forest under -the clear, still stars, and answered me, with protest in his eyes and -in his voice: - -"By the Eternal, Buddy, I ain't swore for a month! May the Infinite -consign me to the tortures of all fiends, if I've swore for a month! -That? Oh, that ain't nothing; that's the way that us fellows talks. If -you live in the camp long enough, Buddy, you'll hear a man swear." - -His face was even more attractive in its expression of manly -seriousness when we stood on the roadside at parting, and he put a firm -hand on my shoulder, and fixed clear eyes on mine, as he told me, in -his frank, open way, that he wanted to make a man of himself and not -be a drunken sot, and that, in this new venture before him, he would -honestly try, and would ask for help. - -The men were going to bed when I got back to camp. I took my pack and -followed them into the loft, where I found three long rows of beds, -reaching nearly the length of the cabin. At my knock the boss came out -of his room, which is a lightly boarded-in corner of the loft, and -gave me a bed next to that occupied by "Old Man Toler." - -I had noticed Old Man Toler in the lobby as being markedly older than -most of the others. He was about fifty-five, I thought, of slender, -slightly stooping figure, and with gray hair. What had impressed me was -his exceedingly intelligent and agreeable face, and I had wondered at -sight of him as being apparently an ordinary hand in the crew. He gave -me a friendly greeting when the boss consigned me to his care, and then -resumed his conversation with a neighbor, while I made ready for bed. - -The beds are simple arrangements, admirably suited to the ends which -they serve. A mattress and a bolster stuffed with straw lie upon a -rough wooden frame without springs, and on top of these are four or -five thicknesses of coarse blankets and tow "comforters." The men -creep under as many strata of bed-clothing as their individual tastes -prompt in a given temperature. And the temperature varies in the loft -in nearly exact conformity with its variations out of doors, for the -boards in the gables have sprung apart, and there are rifts even -between the logs, and the winds sweep with much freedom from end to end -of our large bedroom. - -I soon became interested, too, in the varying tastes of the men in the -manner of their dress for bed. Some go so far on warmer nights as to -take off their boots and trousers, and even their coats and waistcoats. -Others stop at their boots and coats; and on the coolest nights not a -few go top-coated and booted to bed, and make a complete toilet in the -morning by putting on their hats. - -There was more than one surprise for me that night, in the considerate, -well-bred manners of the men; and the whole experience of my stay in -camp has only served to deepen my appreciation. Young Arthur met, at -Rugby, the fate which a merely casual acquaintance with Sunday-school -literature would lead one to imagine as being unfailingly in store -for those who prefer to maintain their private habits in the company -of unsympathetic associates. It will be remembered that Arthur -became, while kneeling at his bedside on the evening of his first -day at school, a target for boots and unkind remarks, until Tom -Brown interfered. Schools have improved since those days, and it has -been gratifying to observe that a like improvement has spread among -workingmen, even so far as to embrace the lumber-camps. The momentary -expectation of a boot in violent contact with one's head is not a -devotion-fostering emotion, and it was a distinct relief to find no -least objection offered to a course of conduct however out of keeping -with the customs of the place. - -There was another surprise in the comfort and the wholesome cleanliness -of my bed, notwithstanding its roughness. But in spite of physical -ease, I lay awake until after midnight, and when I slept at last, -troubled dreams pursued me; I awoke unrested, feeling sick at heart, -and little inclined to further acquaintance with a lumber camp. - -But the morning brought a glorious day, clear and much warmer than -Saturday; and after a late breakfast (seven o'clock) I took a book into -the forest, found a comfortable seat, and read until nightfall, with -time enough for dinner taken out. - -The men scattered widely soon after breakfast. Many visited neighboring -camps, or went shooting; some walked to English Centre; but it was a -perfectly sober crew that reassembled at the supper-table, and a much -cleaner-looking set than on the night before; for after breakfast, for -two hours or more, Fred the Barber had thriftily plied his trade. - -We all went early to bed. The men hailed the day's end as bringing -welcome relief in release from intolerable restraint. When it grew -too dark to read, and I had returned to the cabin, I found in the -lobby several of the men who had loafed about the camp all day. They -were in vicious humor. They fretted like children long shut in by the -rain. They could not sit still in comfort, and their restlessness grew -upon them as they waited for supper, and the movement of time was slow -torture; and so they swore at one another and at the other men who were -returning to the camp, and who seemed in but little better humor than -themselves. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -IN A LOGGING CAMP (_Concluded_) - - -I slept soundly that night, and was awakened in the morning by the -mad clatter of an alarm-clock. It was about four o'clock. I could -hear Fitz-Adams getting up in the little chamber which serves him as -a sleeping-room and an office. He went below, and soon had the fires -roaring fiercely in the kitchen and lobby; and I could hear him call -to the women to get up and get breakfast. Next he appeared in the -loft, and aroused the teamsters. In an incredibly short time they were -dressed, and had lit their lanterns, and were gone to the stable to -feed and tend their horses. - -I got up with them, and was nearly dressed, when the boss reappeared -in the loft. He walked down between the rows of beds, laying heavy -hands here and there upon sleeping figures, and raising his voice to -the call: "Come, roll out of this, you damn ---- ---- ----!" There was -no ill-temper in his manner or tone; it was simply his habitual way of -rousing the crew. - -I was first at the run, first at the towels and comb, and was sitting -in warm comfort behind the stove when the other men came shambling from -the loft, their eyes blinking in the sudden light of the lobby. - -We had beefsteak and potatoes and bread and coffee for breakfast. As -soon as he had finished his meal, I went up to the boss to remind him -of my existence, for he had in no way noticed me since Saturday night. - -"You'll help the teamsters load bark, Buddy. Have you got any gloves?" - -"No," I said. - -"Then come this way." We went together to the office, and he spread -before me a number of new pairs of heavy skin gloves. - -"I don't know which will be best suited to the work that you want me to -do," I said. "Won't you select a pair for me?" - -"My advice to you, Buddy, is to wear them mits," and he pointed to a -pair of white pigskin mittens. "They'll cost you seventy-five cents, -which I'll charge to your wages." - -There was a cot in the office, and a writing-desk, and in one corner a -small stock of woodsmen's furnishing goods: boots, hats, overalls, and -blanket-jackets, besides the gloves. - -The boss locked the door behind us, and told me to follow him. He -carried a lantern, and lit the way to the stables. - -Outside it was white and still, almost like a clear, quiet night in the -snows of midwinter; for a heavy frost covered everything, and in the -thin, unmoving air you could almost hear the crackling formation of -frost-crystals. Into the darkness of the forest the stars shone with -greater glory, and Orion was just sinking beyond the western mountain. - -The four or five teamsters and Old Man Toler and I had gathered in -front of the stable, where the bark-wagons stood in the open. These -were strong vehicles, each with four massive wheels, and they supported -wide-spreading frames within which three or more cords of bark could be -loaded. - -We "greased" the wagons by lantern-light, and then "hooked up" the -horses. The wagon in the van was driven by "Black Bob." Fitz-Adams -ordered Old Man Toler and me to go with that teamster and help him get -on a load of bark. - -Black Bob, muffled to the eyes in a long ulster which was bound about -his waist with a piece of rope, stood erect on the loose boards that -formed the floor of his wagon, and gathered up the reins, and then -started his horses with a ringing oath. Old Man Toler and I followed -after, on foot, up a rocky road that had been newly cut to a point on -the mountain where strips of hemlock-bark lay piled like cord-wood. - -Black Bob swayed to the jolting of the wagon, but kept his balance -with the ease of long habit, and swore a running accompaniment to the -tugging of his team. He was the tallest man in the camp, almost a giant -in height and in proportional development, and he owed his name to his -blue-black hair and swarthy complexion. He was a native-born American, -and, although he seemed never to discriminate among the other men on -grounds of nationality, I thought that some of them did not like him -because of a certain domineering manner he had. - -He drew up now beside a pile of bark, and Toler and I placed a large -stone under each hind wheel to relieve the pull on the horses. - -It had been growing light as we climbed the mountain, and now we could -see the sunlight on the topmost trees across the ravine. - -Toler took up a position facing the bark-pile, with his back to the -wagon. He began to pass swiftly the pieces of bark over his head and -into the rigging, where Black Bob stood ready to load. I followed -Toler's example, imitating his movements as closely as I could, but -was painfully aware of my awkwardness. - -We had been but a few minutes at work when the boss came driving up -behind us; as he turned out in order to pass, he called to me to come -with him, and lend a hand at loading. - -I had an uncomfortable premonition of the ordeal before me; why, I do -not know, for the boss had treated me civilly so far; but I greatly -wished to stay in the camp, and I much feared discharge. - -The boss drove on for some distance, then branched off on a side-road, -and having passed a number of bark-piles, finally turned around with -great difficulty, and drew up, as Black Bob had done, beside a cord of -bark. - -I hastened to place a stone under a hind wheel, and then threw off my -coat, and, getting in between the wagon and the pile, I began to pass -the bark over my head, as I had learned to do from Toler. - -The boss stood on the bottom of the rig, accepting listlessly the bark -as I passed it, and tossing it carelessly into place. His whole manner -was meant to convey to me the idea of my own inefficiency, as though he -was ready to work, even anxious to get warmed up in the frosty air, -but my part was so slowly done that his own was reduced to child's play. - -The storm brewed for a time in grim silence, but soon it broke into -angry shouts of "Faster, faster, damn you!" and then the entire gamut -of insults and excommunications. - -I had been cursed at West Point, though in terms less hard to bear; and -in expectation of the worst, I thought that I had schooled myself to -take it philosophically when it came. But I had an awful moment now, -for philosophy was clean gone, and in its place was a swift, mad desire -to kill; and as the hot blood rushed to my brain, and tingled in my -finger-tips, all that I could see for the instant were the handy stones -under my feet, and the close range of Fitz-Adams's head. - -I do not know what it was that saved me, unless it was the sight of -Fitz-Adams flushed with the anger into which he lashed himself, and -becoming the more ludicrously impotent in his rage, as I restrained -my temper, and showed no sign of fear. Why he did not discharge me on -the spot I do not know. With awful imprecations he kept urging me to -faster and yet faster work. I quickened my clumsy pace to the swiftest -that I could maintain with efficiency, and held it there, careless of -his curses; and, exhausted as I was, I yet had the satisfaction at the -last of noting that our load was on as quickly as was Black Bob's. - -And Fitz-Adams, too, found a curious balm for his troubled feelings. -We were at the last cord, and he was cursing hard, while I panted and -sweated in my straining efforts to pass the bark aboard. The strips -were large and heavy, some of them, and they all lay rough side up; -and as you lifted them over your head there fell upon you from each a -shower of dust and dirt that had gathered in the crumbling outer bark. -This filled your ears and hair, and found its way far down your back. I -had blocked the wheel, but we were on a sharp descent, and the load was -growing heavy. Evidently Fitz-Adams feared our breaking loose, and so -he stopped me suddenly with an order to "make fast the lock-break." Now -"the lock-break" conveyed the dimmest notion to my mind, and the boss -would give no hint as to what it really was nor how it was to be "made -fast;" instead, he stood and watched me, while, with awkward guesses as -to its purpose, I succeeded in unhooking one end of a heavy chain that -hung under the wagon, and having passed it between two spokes of a hind -wheel, I clumsily made fast the hook in a link of the chain drawn taut. - -Fitz-Adams stood, meanwhile, in speechless anger, enraged beyond relief -from oaths; and then the tension broke, with comical effect, in a -sentence which seemed to come to him as a happy inspiration: - -"I'm damned, Buddy, if you ain't greener than a green Irishman; -_greener than a green Irishman_." He repeated the phrase as though it -exactly met the case, and brought him satisfaction far beyond the power -of profanity; and then he shouted through the forest: - -"Hey, Bob!" - -"Hello!" - -"This Buddy, he's greener than a green Irishman!" and he laughed aloud, -and there came an answering laugh from Bob; and the boss started down -the mountain with his load, the locked wheel bounding and crunching -among the stones, while he swore to steady the horses. - -That was all of the loading for the morning, so Toler and I joined -company. Toler had in charge the cutting of roads to the bark-piles, -and I was to serve with him. - -The piles were, some of them, in most inaccessible places. The -hemlock-trees on that side of the mountain had first been felled, then -the bark was cut round on the trunks at intervals of four feet. Next -the bark was peeled off and carefully heaped near by, while the trees -themselves were trimmed and then sawed into logs of desired lengths, -and these were "skidded" into piles. From the piles, in the spring, -when the streams are high, the logs are sent by "skid ways" into the -run, and, once in the water, the lumbermen use their finest skill in -floating them to the market at Williamsport. - -In the meanwhile the bark must be got out and carted to the tannery, -and Toler and I had our work laid out in cutting ways for the wagons. - -Supplied each with an axe, a cant-hook, and a grabbing-hoe, we began -the work of cutting through the brushwood and clearing away the stumps, -and laying rough bridges over the small streams. - -I was delighted at my good fortune in being set to work under Toler. -My respect for him grew steadily. An experience of nearly forty years -as a woodsman had developed his natural gifts to the point of highest -skill, and he had a marvellous instinct for directing a course through -the maze of tangled undergrowth and logs and stumps which marked -the ruins of the forest. I was soon lost, but he turned hither and -thither, with the ready familiarity of a gamin to whom there are no -intricacies in the East End. He had the inspiring air of knowing what -he was about, and the less common possession of actual knowledge, and -he did his work in a masterly manner. "A workman that needeth not to -be ashamed" constantly recurred to me as a phrase which aptly fitted -him. And besides being a clever woodsman, Toler was clean of speech, -that is, comparatively clean of speech--he swore, but his oaths were -conventional and not usually of the blood-congealing kind of some of -the other men. - -That was a long morning's work, from earliest dawn until noon, and the -ultimate advent of the dinner-hour was hugely welcome. Toler and I -knocked off work at the sound of the noon whistle at the tannery four -or five miles away. Only a few of us gathered at the camp. Fitz-Adams, -with the other teamsters, and "Sam the Book-keeper," who is also the -camp carpenter, and Toler and I made up the number. The rest of the -crew were too far in the mountains to return at midday, and "Tim the -Blacksmith" drove off in the buckboard with a hot dinner for them. - -The first work of the afternoon was to help the teamsters get on a -second load of bark. Again the boss forced me to his aid, and cursed -me as he had done before, only I thought that he had been drinking, -and there was certainly an added viciousness in his oaths, and in the -threats of sudden death. But I had the consolation now of knowing that, -as soon as the load was on, I should work with Toler for the rest of -the day. Toler did not curse me, although it was impossible for him -to wholly conceal the slender regard in which he held a man who never -before had seen a grubbing-hoe, nor a cant-hook, and who handled an axe -about as effectively as a girl throws a stone, and to whom the woods -were a hopeless labyrinth. But Toler had the instincts of a gentleman; -for all his want of respect for a man so ignorant as I, it was clear -that there was not a little patient compassion in the feeling which he -bore me, and he was at pains to teach me, and he eagerly encouraged any -sign of improvement on my part. - -But this time I was not done with Fitz-Adams when the afternoon's load -was on. Toler and I soon needed a crowbar, and he sent me to fetch one -from the blacksmith's shop. - -Near the shop there is a depression in the road, and there the soil is -somewhat soft. Much noise was coming from that quarter; and as I neared -it I could see that Black Bob's wheels were fast in the mud, and that -the boss's load was drawn close up behind and blocked. - -Black Bob was on the ground beside his team, his reins in hand, and -with frantic oaths he was urging his horses to their utmost strength. -Fitz-Adams stood by and watched; but at sight of the weakening brutes, -he quickly unbolted his own whiffle-trees, and driving his team ahead, -made fast to the tongue of Black Bob's wagon. Then both together they -started up their horses, lashing them with the far-reaching leather -thongs that swung from the short stocks which they carried, and joining -in a chorus of furious curses. Slowly the great wheels began to rise -from the deep grooves in which they had settled; but in another minute, -as the strength of the horses failed, the wheels sunk surely back -again. Fitz-Adams was beside himself with rage, and at that moment he -caught sight of me. - -"What are you doing here?" he shouted with an oath. - -"Toler sent me for a crowbar." - -"He did, did he? Then I'll send you to hell!" and with that he seized -an axe which lay near, and swinging it above his head, he rushed at -me. It was a menacing figure that he made, with the axe held aloft by -his giant arms, his eyes flashing, and his nostrils dilating with the -childish passion which mastered him; but he was as harmless as a child -at any show of fearlessness, and there was the oddest anticlimax in his -mild command to "get that damn crowbar and hurry back to Toler," which -I was glad enough to do; for my part was a mere pretence of courage; -in reality I felt scared out of a year's growth, and my legs were -trembling violently. - -Through the following days there was little variation for Toler and me -in the programme of work. We loaded bark until the teamsters were off, -and then cut ways to the piles. - -There is, however, an incident of Tuesday morning which will linger in -my memory. It was the fulfilment of Dick the Kid's prophecy. I heard a -man swear. - -The boss anticipated the usual time of the morning cursing, and gave me -an initial one that day in the dark in front of the stables, while the -teamsters stood by with their lanterns in hand, and listened critically -with sober faces, as though they were determining, with a nice sense of -the possible, whether Fitz-Adams was doing himself justice. At the last -he turned to them: - -"Will I kill him now, or let him live one day more?" - -"Let the damn dog live," came from Black Bob. - -"Then you'll take him," said the boss, "and dray out that bar." So -Black Bob and I set off in company. - -I was not a little perplexed by the puerility of Fitz-Adams's rage. -It seemed singularly out of keeping with the sturdy manliness of the -fellow. If he wished to get rid of me, why did he not discharge me? I -began to suspect that the cause lay in tenderness of heart, of which -he was secretly ashamed. To him I was _avis rara_ in a lumber-camp. No -doubt he thought me some hitherto unknown species of immigrant; and -being too tender-hearted to assume the responsibility of turning me -adrift, he hoped to frighten me away. Black Bob soon puzzled me almost -as much. He was driving the dray, which is a rude, low sledge, used -to draw out bark from points that are inaccessible to the wagons. We -were walking together at the side of the road, and neither of us spoke. -Presently Bob stopped his horses to give them breath, and then he -turned to me. His speech was halting, and there was an uncomfortable, -apologetic quality in his voice, but the feeling was evidently sincere. -To my surprise he was bidding me, with utmost kindness, not to mind -Fitz-Adams's curses, and he added that the boss meant nothing by -them, that he really knew no better. It seemed to me an act of truest -friendliness on Black Bob's part, involving charity and moral courage -of high order, and I was far more grateful than my acknowledgment -implied. It produced a comfortable elation, which lasted while we got -on a towering load of bark in silence in the earliest dawn, and started -for the road. We had almost reached it, and the horses were pulling -hard, when, with the suddenness of a pistol-shot, the dray came sharply -against the stump of a stubborn sapling that rose unseen in the way, -and in an instant the horses were plunging forward in broken harness, -and half the load was sliding gently to the ground. - -Black Bob brought the horses to a stand, and then stood still himself. -I was filled with admiration for his self-control, for I dreamt that -he was making a successful effort to restrain himself. In reality he -was summoning all his powers; and in another moment, with face uplifted -to the pale stars, he broke forth in blasphemies so hellish, that for -the next full minute I might have been listening to the outcries of a -tormented fiend, held tight in the grip of remorseless agony. - -Thursday morning brought the crisis in the history of my stay in camp. -In the course of the midday cursing of the day before, Fitz-Adams -told me that he was giving me my last chance. I tried hard to show my -fitness for the place, and our load was the first to start for the -tannery; but to all appearances Fitz-Adams was not placated. I thought -that the last hour of my stay in camp was surely come, and with a -heavy heart I began to plan the next move. But for some reason nothing -further was said to me about leaving, and Thursday morning found me -again helping the boss. - -His mood had strangely changed; it was very early, and the skies were -overcast, and in the clouded twilight we could scarcely see to do our -work. Fitz-Adams seemed to be in no hurry; he was silent, and moved -nervously. I wondered what this might portend, and braced myself for -finality. It was very hard. I was learning to know the men; they -ignored me still, but I was sure that I understood them better, and my -liking for them grew each day, and earnestly I wished to stay, in the -hope of winning a footing in the camp, and some terms of fellowship -with the men. - -Fitz-Adams had stopped working now, and he stood leaning on the rigging -as he spoke to me. There was a mildness in his tone and a tentative -expectancy, as though an uncomfortable suspicion had dawned upon him, -and he feared to verify it. - -"Say, Buddy, have you ever been to school?" - -"Yes," I said. - -There was silence for a minute, and the tone in which Fitz-Adams broke -it was awestruck. - -"Say, Buddy, have you got a education?" - -"I've had good advantages." - -And then eagerly from him: - -"Major, can you figure?" - -It was my inning now, and I liked it, and I was guilty of saying that, -within narrow limits, I could. - -"Will you do my accounts for me, Major?" - -"I will, with pleasure." - -Fitz-Adams drew a deep breath, and his voice fell to a lower tone. - -"Well, that'll be a good thing for me. I never had no schooling, and -Sam the Book-keeper, he don't seem to know much more'n me. I guess I -lost pretty nigh on to two thousand dollars on my contracts last year, -on account of not knowing how to figure. Say, Major, this is pretty -hard work for you; you suit yourself about this work, and help me with -the accounts. Of course, I--I--I--didn't know----" - -"Oh, drop it, Fitz-Adams!" I said. "We understand each other. I'll be -glad to look after the accounts as long as I stay; but it's growing -light now, and let's get on this load." - -And so I won a place in the camp, and got myself on human terms with -the boss. Fitz-Adams never referred to the matter again, but treated me -in a perfectly manly, straightforward way, taking patiently my clumsy -work as a woodsman, and accepting, as a matter of course, my help with -the accounts, and even consulting me, at times, in certain details -of the work. It was one of these consultations which brought a rare -opportunity. - -I had won my way with the boss, not by virtue of an education, but -actually upon the basis of an acquaintance with elementary arithmetic. -When I came to look at the accounts, it was not a question of -book-keeping that was involved, but simple addition and multiplication -and division, in all of which branches both Fitz-Adams and Sam the -Book-keeper were lamentably weak, so weak, in fact, that they felt no -real confidence in their results. - -But my way with the men was yet to make. They were not uncivil, -but they would none of me. To them I was still an outsider, "an -inharmonious figure in their club," and, whatever may have been the -change in my relations with the boss, the men were in no way bound to -recognize me. - -One morning Fitz-Adams and I stood together in his rig, as he was -driving up the "corduroy road" to the place on the mountain where the -crew were at work. Presently he pointed out to me, about forty yards up -the steep ascent no our left, some long, straggling piles of bark that -perched there, like peasants' huts over a precipice in the Alps. - -"I don't know how to go at that bark," he said with a frown. "You can't -get a wagon there, nor yet a dray; and it's so brittle that if you -slide it down, you'll have nothing but chips to cart to the tannery, -and the man that tries to carry it down--well, it's a three or four -days' job, and he'll have his neck broke sure." - -I said that I would look at it. I was "piling bark" now on my own -account, and Toler had another "Buddy," a big, bouncing Irish Hercules, -who had lately come to camp, and who soon won distinction by reason of -the songs he sung. They were wonderful songs; long beyond belief, and -they told the loves and woes of truly wonderful people. - -Buddy had early made known his talent, and on his first evening in camp -he was peremptorily told to sing. It was after supper. He was sitting, -much at home, on the bench behind the stove, and was smoking. Instantly -he took his pipe from his mouth, and cleared his throat; then, laying -his hands on his knees, he sang, swaying meanwhile in time with the -monotonous cadences of that strange verse, which went on and on and -on for quite half an hour, while the men listened open-eyed, and -punctuated the sentiment with profane approval. - -When I examined the bark-piles I found that transferring them to the -"corduroy road" below was a matter of carrying the bark in small loads -on one's back, and of having a secure footing for the descent. - -On the next morning I took a pick and spade, and first cut a series of -steps to the ledge where the bark lay piled. After a little practice, I -learned to make up a load, by selecting a broad, stout slab of bark and -packing the smaller pieces upon it. Then stooping under the load, as -it lay ready on the edge of a pile, I easily shifted it to my back and -head; and holding it with one hand, while the other was free to help -maintain my balance, I carefully picked a way down the steep decline. - -It probably appeared a far more difficult and dangerous feat than -it really was; and with a load of bark upon my back, I was more -than ever an outlandish figure to the men, more in keeping with the -Königsstuhl and the valley of the Neckar than with Fitz-Adams's Camp in -the Alleghanies. But the actual accomplishment of the work seemed to -interest them, and the teamsters used to stop and watch me in silence, -and then drive off, swearing in low tones. - -One evening the whole returning crew caught me at the job. The men -stood still, and having watched a descent, they examined the bark piled -high at the roadside, and then walked on, commenting among themselves. -That night in Camp several of them spoke to me, calling me "Major" -after Fitz-Adams's manner. - -It was the beginning of more personal acquaintance with the men. I -can but like them. In the fortnight and more of my stay I cannot lay -claim to having got on intimate terms with them. But they seem to me a -truthful, high-spirited, hard-working, generous set of men. They swear -like fiends incarnate, and when they can, they drink, and they all have -"rogued and ranged in their time." On grounds of high morality there is -no possible justification for them. But these are men who were born and -bred to vicious living; and the wonder is not that they are bad, but -that in all their blasting departure from the good, there yet survives -in them the vital power of return. - -There is Old Man Toler. He is certainly an exception in point of birth -and earliest breeding, but he has been in the lumber business more -or less, he tells me, since he was a boy of fourteen. There was one -important period taken out, when, as a young man, he enlisted, and -served in the Army of the Potomac, from the spring of 1862 until -the end of the Civil War. He is native-born, and has the intelligent -patriotism of a true American. In our walks together to and from our -work, I delighted in his talk about the war period in his life. His -perspective as a private soldier was so true, so thoroughly free from -the towering obtrusion of his own experiences. These were almost lost -in his absorbing interest in the working out of great events. He -knew the war thoroughly from the point of view of the army. He knew -the service, and had borne his part in hardship and in action with a -distinct sense of personal responsibility to the subject and aim of it -all. This was luminous in what he said, and never from his declaration -of it, but in the absence of such declaration, and in the loss of self -in the large action of which he felt himself a part. - -There was much in Toler that rang true, and I regretted the more -that he evidently preferred to talk little about himself, and almost -never of his personal views. My wonder at his being a common hand -in camp grew, until one day, in talking with Black Bob, I learned a -reason. Black Bob, quite of his own accord, had instituted a series of -comparisons among the men. - -"There's Fitz-Adams and his brother," he was saying, "they're about -as good a pair of lumbermen as you'll find. But they ain't the best in -this camp. There's a man here that knows more about this business than -any three other men, and that's Old Man Toler. His father was a big -lumberman before him, and Toler was brought up thorough to the work, -and he's had many a camp of his own, and made lots of money in his -time. But he ain't ever kept none, and he never will." And Black Bob -winked significantly, and ostentatiously wiped his mouth. - -There is an "old soldier" of quite another type in camp. It is Sam the -Book-keeper. Work on the accounts has brought me into close relations -with Sam. He is a large, good-humored, fair-haired and ruddy-faced -American, who by no means shows his more than fifty years. It is -pathetic to watch his struggles with the lines of figures, as he tries -to add them up; and the situation is really serious, for almost never -can he get the same result twice. - -He and I were working one evening in the office, and had straightened -matters out to a certain point. Sam was in high spirits as a result. -He wished to talk. There was a handy explanation of his ignorance of -figures, and he wanted me to know it. He chiefly played truant from -school, he said, when he was a boy at home on his father's farm; and -at the age of eleven he ran away for good, allured by the fascination -of life on a canal-boat; and ever since that time he had shifted for -himself. - -And now Sam was fairly started in his history; but the narrative leaped -suddenly to his career as a soldier. His war experiences included the -battle of Bull Run and the capture of Savannah. Sam's knowledge of -campaigns was not exhaustive, and his most vivid memories of historic -events were all of a personal nature, which is certainly not unnatural. - -From his own frank statement, he seems to have been among the first -to leave the field at Bull Run. With another member of his company he -reached Washington, rather worn and dusty, but really none the worse -for a cross-country sprint. - -Once in the city, they were soon hailed by an acquaintance, who took -them in hand with the remark that "he knew just the thing for them." - -They were simply to follow him to Pennsylvania Avenue, and obey his -directions. His first was that they should limp, and they limped; and -he led them, limping, to certain rooms on the avenue, where thoughtful -preparation had been made for the care of the wounded. Here they were -received with marked attention, and after having been asked as to -whether they were "just from the front," and to which regiment they -belonged, they were put in the care of certain volunteer nurses. These -ladies, with their own hands, bared the soldiers' feet, and washed -them, and then dressed them in clean socks and comfortable slippers, -which the men were to wear until quite well again. At this refuge Sam -and his companion, and many another soldier "from the front," were -given bed and board as long as they found it convenient to remain. - -With cheerful appreciation of the humor of it, Sam described the -labored way in which his partner and he would limp down the avenue each -morning, until they had turned a corner; and then, instantly restored -to perfect soundness, they would make for the nearest saloon. They -played this game until their cash was gone; then they felt compelled to -rejoin their regiment, which was encamped near Arlington. - -That was the beginning of Sam's career as a soldier. It ended at -Savannah. After the capture of the city, and as General Sherman's army -was setting out on the march to Richmond, Sam found himself one of a -squad ordered to remain behind, for the purpose of assisting the United -States Excise Officers. - -The men had quarters in a large stone building, which was given over -entirely to their use. The work was much to their taste. Every day they -shrewdly searched the city for contraband liquor, and not infrequently -they unearthed a den where kegs of whiskey were concealed. Some of -these they always smuggled to their own quarters, and the rest they -handed over to the excise officers. Orgies that were fired with -unfailing rum consumed the greater part of every night, and formed an -epoch in Sam's history upon which he reflects with lasting satisfaction. - -Most of the men in camp are younger than Old Man Toler and Sam the -Book-keeper, and of the younger set I have made the acquaintance -of "Long-nosed Harry." Harry is barely thirty and already a man of -considerable experience. When fairly started, he can tell capital tales -of how he has "beat his way" on long journeys through the country, and -of narrow escapes from the "cops," and of other occasions when he has -not escaped. Wherever in this country the railways have penetrated, -Harry seems to have gone, and he has gathered on his wanderings a fund -of curious information, as though there were a nether side of things, -and he had grown familiar with that in contrast with the surface that -is exposed to the eye of the ordinary traveller. - -Harry's face confirms his account of a career not unfamiliar with -the police. A long thin face it is, with small dark eyes set close -together, a narrow, thin-lipped mouth, a receding chin, and an -abnormally long nose, which has gained nothing in point of beauty by -having been broken in a fight with a negro at Atlantic City. - -He is of glib speech, and he has at command a long repertory of songs -of the vaudeville variety, and this enhances his standing among the -men. Besides, Harry can read aloud, as I learned one day when a stray -newspaper found its way into the camp. He read with a certain swift -readiness that held your interest, and you soon grew excited in an -effort to recognize old acquaintances in the strangely accented longer -words, which were plainly unintelligible to Harry and his hearers, -while yet the general sense of what was read was obviously clear. - -Harry and I sat talking together one Sunday evening. We had a corner -of the lobby to ourselves. Suddenly, without apparent connection with -what we had been saying, he gave me one of those rare confidences -which reveal, as by a flash of supernatural light, the very heart of a -man's life, and then leave you awed and speechless, in the presence of -eternal verities. - -It was a fragment of personal history, very short, and it was told -with the directness and simplicity of truth itself. He had been married -six years before. His wife was a delicate girl who lived for only two -years after Harry married her. He was a brakeman on a freight-train -then. He used to look forward to his "off-day" with a feeling, he said, -that "made life worth living." And they were convenient, too, those -"off-days"; for in them he did the washing, and the scrubbing, and -whatever else of accumulated housework he could spare his wife. But she -died. And there was nothing more in life for Harry; so he drifted back -into the old way, the way of all the men, a life of alternate work and -debauch. - - * * * * * * * * - -"Karl the Swede" is the only Scandinavian in the crew, which, like -the other gangs of workmen which I have known, is exceedingly -heterogeneous in character. There is nothing remarkable about Karl. -He is a fair-haired, blue-eyed, stocky youth of one-and-twenty, and -as hard-drinking, hard-working a woodsman as any of them. But Karl -happens to be the only man who, during my stay in camp, has met with -an accident. It was yesterday morning. The men were trimming logs, -and "skidding" them at a point on the mountain a mile or more from -camp, and I was piling bark not far from the "skid-ways." At a little -before noon I heard the buckboard go jolting over the bowlders on the -mountain-road; and a few minutes later there rang through the forest -Fitz-Adams's call to dinner. - -I set out for the nearest skid-way, where the men were gathering, when -suddenly I came upon Karl lying at length in a clump of myrtle, with -one foot extended upon a rock, and bare, except for a woollen sock that -was bound tightly around the instep. What had happened was clear in an -instant. The sock was saturated with blood, and a dark, clotted stream -stained the foot, and a pool of blood had formed on the surface of the -rock. I sat down beside him, and Karl first showed me in his boot a -clean cut three inches long, where the axe-blade had entered. Then he -unwrapped the sock, and lifting from the wound a quid of pulpy tobacco, -he exposed a gash where the skin and shallow flesh lay open to the -bone. The flow of blood had nearly ceased, for the tobacco had acted -as a styptic; and Karl quickly reapplied it, and again bound the wound -tightly with his sock. - -All the while he acted in a perfectly impersonal manner, as though he -were in no way directly concerned in the accident, which was simply -a phenomenon of common interest to us both. He betrayed no trace -of suffering nor even of annoyance at the discomfort of the mishap; -and soon he began to speak of it, in his broken English, with like -impersonality. - -"Fitz-Adams, you know, would take him to camp in the buckboard after -dinner, and would see that he got safe to English Centre, where the -doctor would dress the wound. That would do very well until he reached -Williamsport; but he must go to Williamsport, and that was the worst of -it; for it would be several weeks before he could get back to camp, and -then, between drunks and the doctor's bills, his savings would be all -gone." - -This taken-for-granted attitude toward riotous living is strikingly -characteristic. I have noticed it repeatedly among the men. They -speak of past and prospective debauches with the _naïveté_ of callow -undergraduates, except that among the lumbermen there is no sense of -credit or distinction attaching to vice; it is simply inherent in the -order of things. This is by no means a professed creed. Profession, -when there is any, is all in the other direction, and is of the nature -of the "homage that vice pays to virtue." It is simply in the natural -and unpremeditated speech and action of the men that you detect this -attitude of mind. - -The time spent at the camp is, in one aspect of it, a course of -training, a cumulative storage of energy, financial and physical, -against a future expenditure in the sudden outburst of a grand carouse. - -It has been interesting to notice what have appeared to be the -instinctive precautions of the men. There seems to be an established -custom of great strength that prohibits the keeping of spirits in -camp. And gambling is strangely infrequent. I have heard hints of -memorable epochs, when, like an epidemic, gambling has swept the camp -with fearful force, and there is a wholesome fear of its return. I -was struck with this one night, when, without apparent warning, the -customary "High, Low, Jack and the Game" gave place to poker, and an -excited crowd stood round the table and watched; and Fitz-Adams had to -go up to the office to bring down wages due to the players. But the -outbreak spent itself without becoming epidemic this time, and you -could feel the relief among the men when "Phil the Farmer" and "Irish -Mike" agreed to stand their loss of about ten dollars each, and not -continue the game. - -"High, Low, Jack" is invariable after supper, and lends itself with -singular sociability to the pleasure of the men. There is but one pack -of cards, and only one table in the lobby. A four-handed game is begun -immediately after supper, the opposite men playing partners. A game is -not long; and at its end the beaten partners give place to a new pair, -and this course continues until all the members of the crew have had a -hand. - - * * * * * * * * - -In looking over this chapter I see that I have drawn a very inadequate -picture of Fitz-Adams. A hard swearer he certainly is, but Black Bob -was right in assuring me that there is more ignorance than malice in -his habitual maledictions. - -First of all, Fitz-Adams is an admirable workman. To any department of -the work of lumbermen he can lend a hand of highest efficiency. And -his, in a marked degree, are the manual skill and resourceful ingenuity -which are characteristic of the men. Only Fitz-Adams is exceptional in -these particulars, like Old Man Toler. With them this manual skill, for -instance, is like the sure touch of a master handicraftsman. - -One morning, while at work with Old Man Toler, I openly admired his -handling of an axe. Toler was standing on a log which obstructed our -way, and which he was about to cut in two. He drew the axe-blade up the -side of the log between his feet. "Do you see that scratch?" he said, -and then he swung the axe above his head, and brought it down with a -sweeping stroke. The blade entered the bark exactly where the scratch -had been. Five times running, Toler performed this feat, never missing -his mark by the fraction of an inch, and then he turned to me. "I've -used an axe so long, Buddy," he said, "that I can split hairs with a -good one now." - -But even more than a thorough woodsman, Fitz-Adams is a superb -overseer. Under his shrewd foresight and direction, the whole work of -the crew is urged forward with resistless energy. He knows exactly what -each man is doing, and whether or not the work is well done. - -His planning of the work and his effective organizing and directing -toward its accomplishment are, no doubt, his strongest points; but -dramatically considered, although he is perfectly unconscious of the -effect, he shows to greatest advantage when he is personally leading -the crew in an attack upon a difficult situation. All his powers are -well in evidence then, and not least of all his power of speech. You -have actual sight at such times of one of Carlyle's heroes, a "captain -of industry," to whom there are no insurmountable difficulties, no -"impossibilities," but who brings order out of chaos, by the sheer -force of indomitable energy. - -With this high efficiency his ignorance is in striking contrast. He -can write his name, and there his educational equipment ends. His -helplessness in the presence of figures is as pathetic and quite as -serious as is Sam the Book-keeper's. But Fitz-Adams is a young man, -barely thirty, I should say. Almost his earliest memory is that of -being a mule-driver in one of the mines near Wilkesbarre. From this he -went to picking slate in a breaker. Now he is a jobber, employing a -large crew, and undertaking contracts which involve considerable sums -of money. There has been offered to him, and it is still open, the -position of overseer in a far larger enterprise than his own, where, -personally, he would run none of the business risk; but he has confided -to me that he does not dare to accept the place owing to his lack of -even elementary education. In this connection he once asked me whether -I thought that he might yet go to school. I did think so with emphasis, -and I gave him so many reasons for this opinion, and cited so many -examples of men as old as he and older who were at school, that he -really warmed to it as a practicable plan. - - * * * * * * * * - -The rain stopped hours ago, and it is turning very cold, and snow has -begun to fall. Fitz-Adams got back from English Centre long before -dinner, and there is evidence that he has not been drinking. I have -consulted him on the matter of leaving, and he has urged me to stay, -and has offered me permanent employment; but he says that, if I must -be off, and am bent on going westward, I would better get as far as -Hoytville as soon as possible, else I may run the risk of encountering -roads blocked with snow. Then, for the first time, he introduced the -subject of wages, and asked me what I thought was "right." I said that -before coming to the camp, I had worked for a farmer, and had been -given seventy-five cents a day and my keep; and I added that, if this -rate of wage seemed fair to him, it would suit me perfectly. He agreed -at once, and now I am a capitalist. Soon I shall set out for Hoytville, -which is, I judge, a matter of two or three hours' walk from here. -Fitz-Adams has given me careful directions about the road, and has -shown the deepest interest in my plan of getting West, and has urged -me to write to him. - -The crew are all gone to work, and I shall not see them. They were off -as soon as the storm slackened. All were keen to go, and so be spared -the misery of a day of enforced idleness, all except "Old Pete," and he -is past being keen. He is over sixty, and has a strongly marked Celtic -face, deeply furrowed with the lines of age and pain. He works with -the crew, but in camp he sits alone on the bench opposite the stove, -with the overalls and shirts hanging over him. When not at work he sits -there hour after hour, his large, muscular frame bent forward, and his -elbows resting on his knees, and there he endures, in the dumb agony of -animal pain, the torment of rheumatism in his legs. He seldom speaks, -and never of his sufferings--only sometimes in comically sententious -response to something that has interested him. And the men let him -alone, knowing by a true intuition that he prefers it so. - -After the rain let up I happened to pass through the lobby as the men -were starting for their work. Old Pete was the last to move. I watched -him rising slowly to his feet. In spite of him, his face drew the -picture of the hideous pain he bore, but through it shone the clear -courage of a man, and his eyes reflected the grim humor of a thought -that touched his native sense, and he smiled as he said: - -"We don't have to work; we can starve." - - * * * * * * * * - -I have spent three Sundays in the woods. On the first I fled cravenly -into the forest, hugging a book from out my pack, and the hours flew -swiftly along the pages. The second Sunday was another glorious autumn -day. By that time I had won a modest place in camp, and could hold up -my head with due respect among the men. I asked several of them whether -there was any church service at English Centre. They thought that there -was, but they would take no stock at all in my plan of discovery. - -Alone I set out for the village. There was perfect quiet in the -mountains, no sound of axe or saw, nor crash of falling trees, nor -rumble of bark-wagons; only the tuneful flow and splash of the run, -which caught the living sunlight, and flashed it back in radiance -through the flushing air, that quivered in the ecstasy of buoyant -life. The fire of life flamed in the glowing hues of autumn, and -burned with white heat in the hoar-frost which clung to the shaded -crevices in the rocks, and along the blades of seared grass, and on the -fringe of fallen leaves. And I was free, as free and careless as the -mountain-stream, and before me was a blessed day of rest! - -Every foot of the road was strangely familiar, but the familiarity -lay in an intimate association with some distant past, as of earliest -childhood. There was the camp by the dam, and there the Irishman's -cabin, where the cow was still munching straw, and the sow wallowing -in the mire. Then I came to the fork in the road, where one way led to -Wolf's Run. It was a lifetime since I had gone up that way, feeling as -cocky as a wedding-guest, and soon had come down again "a sadder and -a wiser man." I felt like another Rip Van Winkle as I re-entered the -village, but the marvel lay in there being no change at all, except in -the Sunday calm which now possessed the place. - -The post-office is in a private house, and I knocked in some -uncertainty of being able to get my letters; but the postmistress gave -them to me with obliging readiness, and with them a cordial invitation -to attend the Sunday-school, which, she said, was the only service of -that morning. Her invitation was more welcome than she knew, for it was -the first of its kind to reach me as a proletaire. - -I read my letters, and then went to the church, which stands at the end -of the village street. The service was beginning. As superintendent -the postmistress was in charge. There were no men present. About thirty -women and girls, and half a dozen boys, made up the school. The conduct -of the service I thought intensely interesting. The superintendent was -entirely at home in her place, and she valued the opportunity. - -When the classes grouped themselves for the study of the lesson, a -teacher was lacking. I was asked to take the place, and was startled -at finding myself in charge of a class of village belles. What their -feeling toward the arrangement was, I could only guess; but it was -clear that they were not accustomed to being taught by an unshaven, -unshorn woodsman, in rough clothes, and boots covered with patches. But -the lesson was in my favor; it was the incident of the washing of the -disciples' feet at the last Passover. I soon forgot my embarrassment in -the interest of the text, and in an atmosphere of serious study. - -Last Sunday I went again to the Sunday-school, and I had my former -class to teach. Some preparation had been possible during the week, -and the hour passed successfully. Among the announcements was one of a -prayer-meeting to be held that night. - -I reached the church at the hour of the evening service. I opened the -door, and there sat a crowded congregation in waiting. The back seats -on both sides of the aisle were solid ranks of men, lumbermen, and -teamsters, and tannery hands, many of them in their working-clothes. -There were women and children scattered through the pews farther up, -and some boys had overflowed upon the pulpit steps, but most of the -company were men. - -There was no one in the minister's seat, but the postmistress was in -place at the organ, and as I entered, she nodded to me in evident -expectation of my joining her. I walked forward, and she stepped out -into the aisle to meet me. - -"It's time to begin," she said, quietly. - -"Is your minister not come yet?" I asked. - -"Oh, you're going to speak to-night, you know." - -I did not know. For an instant I knew only that there was a cold, -hard grip upon my heart which seemed to hold it still, and that in my -brain there had begun a mad dance of all that I ever thought I knew. -But from out the turmoil a sane thought emerged: "This is a company -of working-people who are come to hear a fellow-workman speak to them -about our deepest needs." In another moment I was cooler, and a -strange, unreasoning peace ensued. - -I asked the postmistress to select some hymns. She handed me a list, -chosen with perfect knowledge of those which the congregation most -enjoyed. The people were soon singing, thinly at first; but the -familiar melody spread, and carried with it a sense of solidarity, -in which self was merged and lost, and the swelling sound rolled on, -deepening with the voices of the men. Soon it recalled college-chapel, -with the students in a mood to sing, and "Ein' Feste Burg" mounting in -the majesty of that deep-toned hymn, until the vaulted ceilings rock, -and the archangels above the chancel seem to join in the splendid -volume of high praise! - -But more helpful to me than the singing was the sight of familiar -faces. Black Bob stood towering like another Saul above the mass of -men; and at his side was one of our teamsters who lives in the village, -and with whom I had often loaded bark. Near the door--I was not quite -sure at first, but there could be no mistake--near the door was -Fitz-Adams, and not far from him Long-nosed Harry and Phil the Farmer -stood together. - -I was trembling when I began to speak, trembling with awful fear, a -fear that was yet a solemn joy; for I had vision then of human hearts -hungering to be fed, and, as a sharer in their need, I knew that it was -given to me to point them to the Bread of Life. - -I could speak to them now, for with greater clearness I could see these -fellow-workers as they were--strong, brave men who win the mastery -which comes to those who clear the way for progress, giving play, in -their natural living, to the forces which make men free, and growing -strong in heart and in the will to do, as they grow strong of arm and -catch the rough cunning of their trade; men of many races, yet meeting -on the common ground of men all free and under equal chance to make -their way; knowing no differences but those of personality, and winning -their places in the crew, each man according to his kind, and his -rewards according to his skill. - -Such were they in their outward lives, the physical life within them -growing in living ways, and making them the true, efficient workmen -that they were. But of the inner life that makes us men, that life -wherein we act from choice, and must "give account of the deeds done in -the body," that range of action which we call moral, where conscience -speaks to us in words of command, there they knew no mastery at all, -and, least of all, the mastery of the moralist. - -To them God was a moral ruler, dwelling afar from the daily life -of men, and righteousness was a slavish obedience to His laws, and -religion a mystic somewhat which was good for women and children and -weak men. - -And yet deep in their own hearts was their supremest need. Life as they -knew it brought to them no satisfaction for its craving want. It was -not so in other things; they knew their work; and in the overcoming -of its difficulties, they had felt the fierce joy of conquest. But -confronted with temptations, the difficulties of their inner life, -there they had no strength; and lust and passion mastered them, and -left their real desire unsatisfied. Here, in respect of mastery, they -were slaves, and as regards life, they were dead, having only the need -of life. - -There, then, was their want; it was for Life, abundant, victorious Life. - -And now I could speak to them of God; of Him "who is not far from every -one of us, for in Him we live, and move, and have our being;" the -living God who reveals Himself in all life, and who became incarnate in -the Son of Man, and who speaks to us in human words which go straight -to our seeking hearts: "I am the way, the truth, and the life." -"I am come that ye might have life, and that ye might have it more -abundantly." "The words that I speak unto you, they are life." - -"Strong Son of God!" whose living words quicken us from the death of -sin and set us free. By whose grace we are "renewed in the whole man -after His image, and enabled, more and more, to die unto sin and live -unto righteousness." Who was "made sin for us, who knew no sin; that -we might be made the righteousness of God in Him." "Who His own self -bare our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sin, -should live unto righteousness." Whose death was not a reconcilement of -God to us, but was "God in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself." -Whose Gospel is the glad tidings of this reconciliation, and we are -become "ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us; we -pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." - -And then we prayed, confessing our sinful state, our bondage, our death -in sin, and pleading that we might be "transformed by the renewing of -our minds, that we might prove what is that good, and acceptable, and -perfect will of God." - - * * * * * * * * - -Now that I am on the eve of leaving Fitz-Adams's Camp, I cannot hide -from myself my eagerness to go. I have real regrets; for while two -weeks and as many days do not constitute a long period, yet time is -purely relative, and I shall have a livelier memory of the camp and -of certain of the men, and a keener interest in them, than I have for -places and men with whom my association has been much longer. - -But of the feelings of which I am conscious at leaving, I am surprised -at the intensity of the longing to know what has happened during the -three weeks, nearly, since I have seen a newspaper from the great -world. I thought little of it as the days passed, but now I am all -aglow with desire for news about the progress of the campaigns in New -York and Massachusetts and Ohio. And then the last word from abroad -had piqued one's curiosity to the utmost as to possible results. Mr. -Smith, the leader of the House of Commons, I know is dead; and as I was -leaving Williamsport for the woods, I saw upon the bulletin-boards the -announcement of Mr. Parnell's sudden death; but of the political effect -of these events no word has reached me. Has Mr. Balfour or Mr. Goschen -succeeded to the leadership of the House? And if Mr. Balfour became the -First Lord of the Treasury, does he retain the Chief Secretaryship -for Ireland? And has the death of Mr. Parnell brought about a reunion -between Parnellites and. M'Carthyites, or is the breach as hopeless as -ever? - -It will be intensely interesting to find answers to these questions and -to many more; but after all I am sincerely sorry to leave the camp, -and as I go up now to say good-by to Fitz-Adams, who is in his office, -it is with the knowledge that I am parting from a man whom it is an -inspiration to have known. - - - - -The Workers--The East - -By WALTER A. WYCKOFF - -With five full-page Illustrations. 270 pp. 12mo, $1.25 - - _CONTENTS:--The Adjustment--A Day-Laborer at West Point--A Hotel - Porter--A Hired Man at an Asylum--A Farm Hand--In a Logging Camp._ - -In this first volume of a college man's narrative of his two years' -experience as a day-laborer, he deals entirely with rural occupations -and rural conditions. He is a day-laborer in an uncrowded market. -He is in close contact with poverty, but not with despair. This is -a side of the labor question which has been very much neglected by -sociologists, and it forms an invaluable introduction to the more -strenuous conditions of the second volume. Professor Wyckoff writes -with the literary skill of a novelist, and the scrupulous accuracy of a -scientist. - - "We doubt if any American of the employer class can read it - without a feeling that the picture tells a story of the whole - civilization in which he lives. It is a thoroughly American book, - and could have been written in no other country."--_The Evening - Post_, New York. - - "The volume is packed with living faces; they are there in the air - before one in all their delightful homely individuality, their - recognizable truth to human nature."--_The Weekly Sun_, London. - - "This writer at least brings our fellows of the ditch and the - woods closer to our sympathies."--_The Dial_, Chicago. - - "The project itself was a brave one and bravely carried - out."--_The Observer_, New York. - - "The valuable features of the book are the observations of Mr. - Wyckoff on the habits of working men, their genuine democracy and - the sore temptations which are offered by the saloon to men who - have not formed the reading habit, and who have no resources for - amusement."--_The Chronicle_, San Francisco. - - "We regard it as much the most enlightening as well as - incomparably the most interesting sociological work of the - year."--_The Outlook_, New York. - - "It is doubtful if a more interesting contribution to social - science than this work of Professor Wyckoff's has ever been - written."--_The Interior_, Chicago. - - - - -The Workers--The West - -By WALTER A. WYCKOFF - -With 32 full-page Illustrations by W. R. Leigh 12mo, $1.50 - - _CONTENTS:--In the Army of the Unemployed (Chicago)--A Factory - Hand--Among the Revolutionaries--A Road-Builder of the World's - Fair Grounds--From Chicago to Denver--A Burro Puncher on the - Plains._ - -In this volume Mr. Wyckoff continues his "experiment in reality" in the -crowded labor-market of Chicago. He suffers with the lowest classes of -the unemployed, and works himself to a better condition; he studies -organized labor in a great factory; he analyzes social discontent with -the anarchists; and he works his way to the Pacific coast through the -great wheat farms, toils in deep mines, and drives a burro across the -desolate plains. This closes one of the most romantic narratives ever -written by a scholar, and one of the most valuable to all classes. It -is a contribution to the study of humanity. - - "Nobody could read the present instalment of 'The Workers' in the - West without feeling as never before the reality of the suffering - which night after night and day after day, faces thousands upon - thousands of homeless, hopeless working men in the great cities of - our 'prosperous' country."--_The Commons_, Chicago. - - "The story is Dantesque in its realism, for it is the realest - of the horrible real that it tells of."--_The City and State_, - Philadelphia. - - "Mr. Leigh's illustrations could not be improved; they are simply - perfect. We believe the American public is following Mr. Wyckoff's - papers with intense interest, for they get right down to life - as no previous study of this kind has done."--_The Homestead_, - Springfield, Mass. - - "These are unique sociological studies, in the nature of what may - be called laboratory work."--_The Watchman_, Boston. - - "His 'experiment' is a vitally interesting one--a young college - graduate, he is trying to see what are the chances for an - honest, strong man to earn his living."--_The National Tribune_, - Washington. - - "This is so vividly written that one's heart aches for the - miserable creatures it describes."--_The Irrigation Age_, Chicago. - - "These articles will make every reader think of the - working-classes with new and painful interest."--_The Bulletin_, - Pittsburg, Pa. - -CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers -NEW YORK - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKERS*** - - -******* This file should be named 64400-0.txt or 64400-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/4/4/0/64400 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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(Walter Augustus) Wyckoff</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - - p { margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - } - - p.bold {text-align: center; font-weight: bold;} - p.bold2 {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; - } - h1 span, h2 span { display: block; text-align: center; } - #id1 { font-size: smaller } - - - hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; - } - - body{margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - } - - table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 5px; border-collapse: collapse; border: none; text-align: right;} - - .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - text-indent: 0px; - } /* page numbers */ - - .center {text-align: center;} - .smaller {font-size: smaller;} - .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - .space-above {margin-top: 3em;} - .right {text-align: right;} - .left {text-align: left;} - .s3 {display: inline; margin-left: 3em;} - - .poem {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} - .poem br {display: none;} - .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - .poem div {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - - - h1.pgx { text-align: center; - clear: both; - font-weight: bold; - font-size: 190%; - margin-top: 0em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0em; - line-height: 1; } - h2.pgx { text-align: center; - clear: both; - font-weight: bold; - font-size: 135%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0em; - page-break-before: avoid; - line-height: 1; } - h3.pgx { text-align: center; - clear: both; - font-weight: bold; - font-size: 110%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0em; - line-height: 1; } - h4.pgx { text-align: center; - clear: both; - font-weight: bold; - font-size: 100%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: 0em; - letter-spacing: 0em; - line-height: 1; } - hr.pgx { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1 class="pgx" title="">The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Workers, by Walter A. (Walter Augustus) -Wyckoff</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: The Workers</p> -<p> An Experiment in Reality: The East</p> -<p>Author: Walter A. (Walter Augustus) Wyckoff</p> -<p>Release Date: January 27, 2021 [eBook #64400]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKERS***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4 class="pgx" title="">E-text prepared by Martin Pettit<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (https://www.pgdp.net)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (https://archive.org)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/workersexperimen00wyckiala - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pgx" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/front.jpg" alt="front" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> - -<h1>THE WORKERS </h1> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><a name="frontis.jpg" id="frontis.jpg"></a><img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="WE BREATHE THE HOT AIR" /></div> - -<p class="bold">WE BREATHE THE HOT AIR, HEAVY WITH THE SMELL OF FRESH -SOIL. AND<br />THE SWEAT DRIPS FROM OUR FACES UPON THE DAMP CLAY. </p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="title page" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE WORKERS</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">AN<br /><br />EXPERIMENT IN REALITY</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">BY</p> - -<p class="bold2">WALTER A. WYCKOFF</p> - -<p class="bold">ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF POLITICAL ECONOMY IN<br />PRINCETON UNIVERSITY</p> - -<p class="bold space-above"><i>THE EAST</i></p> - -<p class="bold space-above">NEW YORK<br />CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br />1899</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1897, by</span><br />CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</p> - -<p class="center space-above">TROW DIRECTORY<br />PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY<br />NEW YORK</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">TO<br /><br />CHANNING F. MEEK, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PREFACE</h2> - -<p>The preface to a narrative like this must itself be of the nature of a -story which will account for the expedition here described, and make -clear the point of view from which the experiment was tried.</p> - -<p>Enough of the actual setting of the tale is implied in a passing -reference to a charming country-seat on Long Island Sound, and the -presence there of a fellow-guest, Mr. Channing F. Meek—a chance -acquaintance to me then. His wide knowledge of the West, his intimate -familiarity with practical affairs, and his catholic sympathy with -human nature, made him a man wholly new and interesting to me. And -in our talk, which drifted early into channels of social questions, -I could but feel increasingly the difference between my slender, -book-learned lore and his vital knowledge of men and the principles by -which they live and work. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p> - -<p>One radiant Sunday morning in midsummer there came to me from his -talk so strong a suggestion of the means of acquiring the practical -knowledge that I lacked, and in a way that gave promise of an -experiment so interesting, and of such high possibility of successful -treatment, that in that hour I knew that I was pledged to its -undertaking.</p> - -<p>No further disclosure of my <i>animus</i> is needed than has already been -hinted at in the fact of a new, unoccupied, inviting field and the -fair prospect which its development offered to a student eager for a -place among original investigators. I cannot, however, sufficiently -acknowledge my indebtedness to the friends whose generous sympathy has -followed me throughout the enterprise—especially that friend already -mentioned. To him I owe the first idea of the plan and a large measure -of what success has attended its execution.</p> - -<p>The narrative form into which I have cast the results of my -investigation depends for its value solely upon careful adherence to -the truth of actual experience. This account is strictly accurate even -to details; apart from confessed changes in the names of the persons -introduced,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> no element of fiction has intentionally been allowed to -intrude.</p> - -<p>It only remains to say with reference to my attitude in the experiment -itself, that I entered upon it with no theories to establish and no -conscious preconceptions to maintain. As sincerely as I could, I -wished my mind to be <i>tabula rasa</i> to new facts, and sensitive to the -impressions of actual experience.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Princeton University</span>, October 27, 1897. </p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER I</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Adjustment</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER II</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">A Day-laborer at West Point</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER III</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">A Hotel Porter</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER IV</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">A Hired Man at an Asylum</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER V</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">A Farm Hand</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER VI</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">In a Logging Camp</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="center">CHAPTER VII</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">In a Logging Camp</span> (<i>Concluded</i>), </td> - <td><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table summary="LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS"> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">We Breathe the Hot Air, Heavy with the<br /> -Smell of Fresh Soil, and the Sweat Drips<br />from our Faces upon the Damp Clay</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#frontis.jpg"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"><span class="smaller">FACING<br />PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">I Easily Passed Unnoticed in the Crowd</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#i024.jpg">24</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">A Weird Procession, this Fragment of a<br /> -Company in the Ranks of Labor</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#i048.jpg">48</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">I Held my Peace, and Respectfully<br /> -Touched my Cap, Inwardly Calling Her<br /> -the Beauty that She Was</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#i094.jpg">94</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Men were Rising from their Seats,<br /> -and the Air was Full of Welcome</span>,</td> - <td><a href="#i216.jpg">216</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold2">THE WORKERS</p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER I</span> <span class="smaller">THE ADJUSTMENT</span></h2> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Highland Falls, N. Y.</span>, <br />Monday, July 27, 1891.</p> - -<p>The boss at the work on the old Academic building in West Point gave me -a job this morning, and ordered me to come to work to-morrow at seven -o'clock. A gang of laborers is fast removing the old building, which is -to give place to a new one. From one of the workmen I learned that the -men live in Highland Falls, a mile down the river, and so I came here -in search of a boarding-house. There was some difficulty in finding -quarters, for the place is crowded with workingmen attracted here by -the new buildings at the Post and work on the railway.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Flaherty has taken me in as a boarder. That is not her name, but -it sufficiently indicates her. She came to the door with the odor -of soap-suds and boiling cabbage strong upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> her, and told me at -first that she guessed that she couldn't take me. She relented when I -explained that I had work at the Post; and, having admitted me as a -member of her household, she gave play to her natural hospitality. When -I was shown to a little carpetless room under the roof, with two double -beds in it, I spoke of needing water, and she showed me where I could -get a plentiful supply. I said that I should like to write, and she at -once invited me from the torrid heat of the attic to a place at her -dining-room table.</p> - -<p>Here then, in the temporary security of a boarding-house, and as an -assigned member of the industrial army, I can review the first week of -enlisted service.</p> - -<p>I am vastly ignorant of the labor problem, and am trying to learn by -experience; but I am so far familiar with Socialistic writings as to -know that, from their point of view, I have not gone from one economic -class into another. I belong to the proletariat, and from being one of -the intellectual proletarians, I am simply become a manual proletaire. -In other words, I no longer stand in the market ready to sell what -mental ability I have, I now bring to the market instead my physical -capacity for work; and I sell that at its market price. Expressed in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> -every-day language, the change is simply this: from earning a living as -a teacher, I have begun to earn it as an unskilled laborer.</p> - -<p>But, nevertheless, the change has in it elements of real contrast. -One week ago I shared the frictionless life of a country-seat. -Frictionless, I mean, in the movement of an elaborate system which -ministers luxuriously to the physical needs of life. Frictionless, -perhaps, only to those to whom it ministers. Now I am out of all that, -and am sharing instead the life of the humblest form of labor upon -which that superstructure rests.</p> - -<p>This is not a frictionless life in its adjustment to daily needs—very -much the reverse. And whatever may be its compensations, they are not -of the nature of easy physical existence.</p> - -<p>The actual step from the one manner of life to the other was sure of -its own interest. It was painful to say good-by on the last evening, -and there was enough of uncertainty in the prospect to account for -a shrinking from the first encounter with a strange life; but there -was promise of adventure, and almost a certainty of solid gain in -experience.</p> - -<p>At sunrise on the next morning I was ready to set out. I descended -quietly to the hall. The butler stood there, politely urging some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> -pretended necessity as excuse for so early an appearance, and he -invited me to breakfast.</p> - -<p>Often had he seen me off for a day's fishing or shooting in the old -suit which I wore, but I could feel his eye fixed upon me now with -perplexed interest. He had heard my expedition discussed at the table, -and in some vague way he took in that I meant to earn my living as a -workman. With his wonted dignity, he helped me adjust my pack and strap -it; and then he stood under the <i>porte cochère</i>, and watched me hurry -across the lawn in the direction of the highway.</p> - -<p>Two hours' walk carried me beyond the point of my acquaintance with -the country roads; but this presented no real difficulty, for I had -but to keep a steadily westward course. Other details of my expedition -were not so simple, and I began to have an uncomfortable sense of -unsuspected difficulty. I look back from the vantage-point of a -week's experience, with a feeling of amused tolerance, upon my naïve -preconceptions. It is like a retrospect of years. My notion of earning -a living by manual labor was the securing of an odd job whenever I -should need a meal or a night's lodging. Much advice had come my way -before I set out. As a means of access to people, I was told to take -with me a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> book or magazine, and to invite subscriptions. I adopted -this plan; and a copy of a magazine was under my arm as I walked on -through the dust and heat of the country road, wondering how long it -would take me to reach the Hudson, and how I should earn my first meal.</p> - -<p>There was nothing at all adventurous or exciting in a dusty walk. My -pack was taking on increments of weight with each mile of the journey. -I was beginning to feel conscious of change in unexpected ways. There -was no money in my pocket, and a most subtle and unmanning insecurity -laid hold of me as a result of that. The world had curiously changed -in its attitude, or rather I saw it at a new angle, and I felt the -change most keenly in the bearing of people. My good-morning was not -infrequently met by a vacant stare, and if I stopped to ask the way, -the conviction was forced upon me that, as a pack-pedler, I was a -suspicious character, with no claim upon common consideration.</p> - -<p>In the shade of his porch sat the keeper of a country store, at a fork -of the road. His chair was tilted against the outer wall, and his feet -rested upon the balustrade. My question as to the course of the two -roads before me was responded to by the merchant, first with a look,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> -and then a spurt of tobacco-juice, which stirred the dust between my -feet, and, finally, a caustic sentence to the effect that he 'did -not much know, and did not care a damn,' while his blue eyes swept -the horizon, and rested finally on the Sound, gleaming golden in the -morning sun, and the purple line of the Long Island shore.</p> - -<p>The new-born self-consciousness which I found asserting itself was like -a wound on the hand, exposed to constant injury. I had walked several -miles before I summoned courage to speak to anyone else. Finally, very -hot and thirsty, I knocked at the door of an unpainted cottage which -stood on the road. The door opened to the touch of an old woman, who -bent toward me in the emaciated angularity of a decrepit figure which -must once have been strikingly tall and vigorous.</p> - -<p>I asked leave to show her the magazine, and she invited me into the -cool of her home. The middle floor was covered with a yellow oil-cloth, -on which there stood a table. A large cooking-stove occupied one side -of the room. A few wooden-bottom chairs were ranged around the walls. -An old kitchen clock rested on the mantel-shelf; and on either side of -it hung a faded photograph, each in an oval wooden frame.</p> - -<p>The old woman asked me to draw up a chair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> to the table, and she sat -beside me, looking with the excited interest of a child at the pictures -which I showed her, but paying little heed, I thought, to what I was -saying. Presently, without warning, she veered mentally with the -facility of childhood, and now she was looking at me intently between -the eyes, while one long skeleton hand lay on the open page before her.</p> - -<p>"Be you a pedler?" she asked, and her eyes dilated to the measure of -the protruding sockets over which the yellow skin was tightly drawn.</p> - -<p>"I am trying to get subscribers for this magazine," I told her.</p> - -<p>"Was you raised in these parts?"</p> - -<p>My negative gave her the opening for which she was unconsciously -feeling. She was born and "raised" on that spot, and had lived there -for nearly eighty years, and she hastened to tell me so. There was -nothing voluble in the recital of her history, only a directness and -simplicity of speech and a certain quiet reserve which rendered the -narrative absorbing to us both. Some bond of sympathy began to make -itself felt, for she was dwelling on the losses of her life, and, quite -unconsciously, she wept as she told me of the death of one and another, -until not one of all her family or kindred was left to her, except her -grandson, with whom she now lived. She said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> no word of complaint; and, -in the presence of her human sorrows, she had no memory of poverty, -and of the bitter struggle against want which life had plainly been -for her. She was sobbing softly, with her head bent upon the table, -when she ceased speaking, and no comfort that I could offer her was -comparable to the relief that she felt in telling her story. When I -arose to go, she was breathing deeply, like a comforted child.</p> - -<p>For a stretch of several miles of country road I spurred myself to -knock at every door to which I came. My reception was curiously -uniform. I never got beyond the request for leave to show the magazine. -The reply was invariably a negative; sometimes polite, but always -emphatic. Once I did not get so far as that. A portly negress saw me -approaching her cottage from the road, and, standing strident on guard -before her door, she shouted to me across the meadow that nothing was -wanted there, and that I might save myself the walk.</p> - -<p>It was nearing noon, and I was very hungry. The question of earning -a meal was no longer an interesting speculation, but a pressing -necessity. I turned all my attention to that. A large iron gateway -leading into a cemetery attracted me. Several ragged, tow-headed -children were playing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> about the lodge. One of them told me that his -father was inside, and he indicated the general direction of the -tomb-stones. I found the digger sweating freely in a half-finished -grave, and instantly offered my help as a means of earning a dinner. -The grave-digger was an Irishman. He leaned at ease upon his spade, and -soberly looked me over, and then declined my offer. He was polite, but -not at all communicative, and he met my advances with the one remark -that his "old woman" was not at home.</p> - -<p>A little farther on, I saw three women in pursuit of a hen. I eagerly -volunteered my help, and asked for a dinner in payment. They quit the -chase, and stood confronting me with serious faces, while I eloquently -pleaded my readiness to help them. Nothing in the situation seemed to -strike them as strange or irregular, but they touched upon it with -short, grave speech, until I had the feeling of something momentous, -and I accepted their refusal with a sense of relief.</p> - -<p>At last, in the outskirts of the village of Westport, I found a man -mowing his lawn, and he was willing to give me a dinner for completing -the work. My final success in getting an odd job was a splendid -stimulus. I urged the mower over the lawn with a vigor that surprised -me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> and the dinner which I ate in the dim corner of an immaculate -kitchen was a liberal return for the labor.</p> - -<p>All that long summer afternoon I went from house to house, asking -subscriptions for the magazine. The rack would have been easier upon -my feelings, but I was eager to discover some ready way of approaching -people. Not even the loafers at the station were in the least inclined -to share their company with me. At nightfall I earned, by sawing wood -for an hour, a supper and the right to sleep in an unused barn.</p> - -<p>When I awoke, in the early morning, I looked with bewilderment at -the dull gray light that shone between the parted boards and through -the rifts among the shingles. I came to myself with homesickness in -full possession of me, and my back aching from the pressure of that -intolerable pack. At the pump in the barn-yard I washed myself, and -sat down to eat a slice of cold meat and some pieces of bread which I -had saved from supper. An unfriendly collie watched me, and growled -threateningly until I won him over with a share of the breakfast.</p> - -<p>The village was muffled in a heavy, clinging fog. The buoyancy of -the previous morning was gone. It was with some difficulty that I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> -found the road which had been pointed out to me as the shortest cut -across country to the Hudson. I could not shake off the feeling of -homelessness and isolation; and, under its influence, the lot of the -farmers' boys, whom I met driving their carts to early market, appeared -infinitely to be desired. A life of any honest work which accounts for -one, and includes some human fellowship, and a reasonable certainty -of food and shelter, began to take on undreamed-of attractiveness, in -contrast with vagrancy. I felt outside of the true order of things, -and as having no contact with any vital current of the world. Perhaps -it was in some measure the Philistine in me asserting himself, in the -absence of his customary bath and hot coffee; for, as the fog lifted -and the sun appeared, I came upon a brook which I had only to follow a -hundred yards or more to a well-shaded pool, where the bath was soon -achieved, and I emerged feeling that a vagrant life, with some purpose -in it, was, after all, rather desirable.</p> - -<p>The morning was only fairly begun when I reached the village of Wilton, -eight miles from Westport. Already I was tired, and certain muscles of -the shoulders and back were in violent revolt. I left my pack at the -post-office. Passing up a street, which runs at right angles to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> the -one by which I entered the village, I presently knocked at the last of -a row of comfortable cottages.</p> - -<p>When the door opened I knew instinctively that the gentleman who stood -framed in it was the village pastor. I said that I was looking for -work. He asked me inside. I thought this a curious change of subject, -but willingly followed him into a dim sitting-room, fragrant of perfect -cleanliness. I explained that I was on my way to West Point in search -of work, but was without money, and so obliged to earn my living by -the way, and that I would gladly do anything that offered in payment -for bread and board. He questioned me closely, with an evident purpose -of drawing me out further, and then he abruptly offered me work on his -wood-pile, and appeared surprised at my instant agreement.</p> - -<p>The wood was green, and the saw, with which it had first to be cut -into proper lengths, was not sharp, and it was certainly not skilfully -handled. The work was hard, but at noon there was ready for me in the -shed, a dinner of beef, and potatoes, and slices of bread, which for -lightness and color were like flakes of snow, held by a band of crisp -brown crust.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon the minister interrupted my work with the request that -I would join him in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> the house, and he indicated where I could first -wash in the wood-shed. I steeled myself for a lecture on the evils of -vagrancy, with incidental references to drunkenness as its probable -cause in my case. Instead, I found the family seated for an early -"tea," and myself invited to a place at the table. I am bound to say -that I was rattled. I had expected a meal in the kitchen, and a bed in -common with the preacher's horse.</p> - -<p>Not the least curious position in which I have so far been placed, was -that which I occupied at the minister's board. His family, I shrewdly -suspect, did not share his hospitable feelings toward me, and I could -venture a guess that it was under protest from them that I took a seat -next to the minister's daughter.</p> - -<p>She was a pale, delicate girl, of seventeen, perhaps. Her short, brown -hair curled close to her head, and her dark eyes looked dimly at you -through huge spectacles. The light, crisp stuff in which she was -dressed seemed to create about her an atmosphere some degrees cooler -than that of the rest of the room.</p> - -<p>By way of beginning, I offered some fatuous commonplace about the -surrounding country. Instantly I realized that I was not to venture -upon a conversation that implied terms of social equality. The child -bristled with outraged <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>dignity, and let fall in reply a sharp -monosyllable. Further conversation with her would have been highly -diverting, but not very considerate, and so I turned to my host, who -maintained through the meal the air of one who is on the defensive, but -who is sustained by the conviction of doing his duty.</p> - -<p>My sympathies were all with the girl. Her feeling was very natural—so -natural as to suggest the rather disturbing ideas with which Count -Tolstoi is again confronting us. It was a very practical application of -the teaching of brotherhood, that of asking a chance workman to a seat -at one's family table. But if ministering to Him is really, in part, -in such recognitions of the least of His brethren, the instinctive -shrinking of the girl brought up in a Christian home in the country was -a commentary on our drift from the simplicities of the Gospel.</p> - -<p>In the evening I went with the minister to a prayer-meeting in -his church. A handful of people sat at solemn intervals in the -audience-room. I was plainly the only common laborer among them. -The men appeared to be comfortable farmers, and there was a village -shopkeeper or two, while the women were clearly their wives and -daughters.</p> - -<p>In one of the agitating silences which fell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> upon the company after -the minister had declared the meeting open, I rose and took part; and -at the door, when the benediction had dismissed us, several of the men -spoke to me cordially. There was entire kindliness in their manner, and -they, perhaps, were not conscious of showing surprise in welcoming a -laborer to their meeting.</p> - -<p>That night the minister insisted upon my taking a bed in his house. I -pleaded an early start. He, too, was to be up early, and in the morning -I found him in the kitchen before me. On the table were bread and milk; -and as I ate I parried the somewhat searching questions of my host.</p> - -<p>My course from Wilton lay through Ridgefield and Salem and Golden's -Bridge, and then, crossing the line between Connecticut and New York, -it made directly for the Hudson River.</p> - -<p>This was no great distance; but in the early stages of the march I -was much delayed by rains. Driven to shelter, I found it usually in -a barn, or a shed under which were housed the farming implements. -Here is an example: From a sudden downpour of rain I ran to an open -barn. A farmer, whom I found there unhitching his horses, eyed me -suspiciously, and gave a halting assent to my request for shelter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> -He soon left me alone. I tried to read, and could not. The dull day -was deeply depressing. Like the burden of a haunting sorrow the trial -of separation weighed upon me. It was not homesickness alone, but -added to that a feeling of isolation. Poverty, I had thought, would -at once bring me into vital contact with the very poor. Instead, it -had made me an object of unfailing distrust. The very poor I found -in an occasional cottage of a farm laborer, or some grotesquely -dilapidated hovel, swarming with negro life. But they were no more -hospitable to my approach than were the well-to-do farmers, and I -met not a single vagrant like myself in the course of my walk to the -Hudson. I was lonely with the loneliness of a castaway, and I climbed -into the hay-loft and fell asleep. Here, at least, was comfort; the -deep, dreamless sleep, to which I had long been a stranger, was making -gracious advances. When I awoke, the rain was past for the time, and -I resumed my journey, with a leaden sky overhead, and soft, clinging -mud under foot; but I was strangely refreshed, and walked on quite -enheartened.</p> - -<p>The intermittent rains interfered with my progress, and increased the -difficulty of finding chance work. Repeatedly I was offered a meal, but -denied the privilege of working for it. For<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> twenty-four hours I went -hungry, and spent much of that time asleep in a hole which I burrowed -into a hay-stack.</p> - -<p>But under a brightening sky on Friday, I was given some wood to chop, -and the promise of a dinner in payment.</p> - -<p>The work was soon done, and to the dinner there was given an added -pleasure in the company of one of the two old women for whom I chopped -the wood. She sat at the table and talked to me. Perhaps she was -solicitous for her spoons. Certainly she was very entertaining. Her -dark calico dress fitted closely her thin figure; and she sat very -straight in her chair, with her hands folded in her lap, and her eyes -bright with gentle benignity.</p> - -<p>In all the farming region through which I have passed on my way to the -Hudson, I have been much impressed by an unlooked-for quality in the -intelligence of the people. The books, of which I now and then caught -glimpses in their homes, were often of a surprising range. On the -sitting-room table of one farm-house I noticed a Milton, and several -volumes of Emerson, and a copy of Stevenson's Essays, besides much -current literature. Not infrequently the conversation of these people -had in it a curious suggestion of cultivation, curious only because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> -a dainty choice of words, and the graceful turn of a phrase were -accompanied by habitual inaccuracies of speech. They have, for example, -their own forms of the verb "to be." "I be" and "You be" are invariable -in their common usage. I wondered whether the conventional forms which -they find in their reading did not strike them as oddly foreign.</p> - -<p>The prim little lady who sat near me through my dinner proved charming. -She showed no curiosity about my history, nor the least anxiety to -tell me hers. With an air of quiet self-possession she followed the -conversation into its natural channels, and sometimes followed it far; -for at one time she was describing for me, with admirable vividness, -the methods of irrigation in use in Colorado. But she consistently -made <i>done</i> do duty for <i>did</i>, and she used, in some of her sentences, -negatives enough to satisfy the needs of negation in the purest of -Attic speech.</p> - -<p>One more incident of the tramp to the Hudson: Late on Friday afternoon -I was nearing Golden's Bridge, a village on the Harlem division of the -New York Central Railroad. My road lay over the hills of a rolling -farm-region. The fields of corn were radiant with sunlight reflected -from great drops of rain which rested on the nodding blades. In the -meadows was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> rich sheen of the after-growth. Golden-rod and sumach -grew thick on the roadside, and half concealed the rails of the zigzag -fences. From the forest there came a breath of fragrant coolness.</p> - -<p>After sundown the twilight soon faded into dark. My efforts to secure -further work had been unsuccessful. Once I was nearing the ruin of a -little wooden cottage, on the porch of which sat a woman enjoying the -cool of the evening. Upon seeing me enter the gate she fled within, and -slammed the door; and I heard the key turn in the lock. I was growing -tired. The actual journey had not carried me far, but the long fast of -the previous day and the toilsome walking over soft roads had resulted -in exhaustion. Scarcely physical strength remained with which to move -farther, and I was ready to throw myself down, with infinite relief, -under any chance shelter, when I caught sight of the village lights not -a quarter of a mile beyond.</p> - -<p>I knocked at the first door on the street. A farmer's wife appeared, -and kindly offered to consult her husband on the subject of work. She -soon returned with a favorable reply, and invited me to follow her into -the kitchen. Carpetless as it was, and stained as to walls and ceiling, -and low, and dimly lighted, the shelter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> of that room was like softest -luxury. A pitcher of milk and some slices of bread were placed on the -table, and I ate ravenously.</p> - -<p>At one end of the table sat the farmer in his shirt-sleeves, with a -newspaper spread before him. He was in the midst of his haying, he -said, and had plenty of work, and was willing enough that I should join -the other men in the hay-field. The shed for the hands was full, so I -offered to go to the barn, and was soon fast asleep on the loose hay in -a stall.</p> - -<p>As the farmer and I walked to the barn, I had taken occasion to fortify -myself in the agreement regarding work. He was an old man, very hale -and hearty and genial, and he walked with a curiously stiff movement -of the legs, and with his feet nearly at right angles to the line of -progress. He set my mind at rest with the assurance that there would be -plenty of work for me, if the morning proved good.</p> - -<p>The morning was all that could be desired. I got up early, and went -to the kitchen, where an Irish maid-of-all-work gave me a bit of soap -and some water in a tin basin, with which to finish my preparation for -breakfast. She was a beautiful girl, large and awkward and ill-groomed; -but her features were strikingly handsome, and her clear, rich -complexion would of itself have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> constituted a claim to beauty, while -sprays of golden hair fell in effective curls about her forehead, and -heightened the charm of her deep-set Celtic blue eyes. I was drying -my face and hands on a coarse towel which hung on a roller near the -kitchen-door, and which was used in common by all of the hired men. -She watched me curiously. Presently she ventured an inquiry as to -whether "the boss" had given me "a job." I said that he had. "Her eyes -were homes" of deep concern, and in her voice was that note of pity so -effective in the Celtic accent. She was saying that my hands did not -look as though I was used to work. I was blushingly conscious that my -hands were against me, but she tactfully tried to relieve the situation -by supposing that I was a "tradesman." Then had to come the damaging -confession that I was not. But the other hired men now began to enter, -and we sat down to breakfast.</p> - -<p>A breakfast on a farm is not always the appetizing reality that the -inexperienced imagination paints. The cloth, in this case, was ragged, -and showed signs of long use since its last washing, and there were -no napkins. The service was repulsive in its hideous tastelessness. -Flies swarmed in the room, and crowded one another into our food. The -men were in their working<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> clothes, coatless, sleeves rolled up, and -their begrimed shirts open at the neck. When our coffee was poured -out and handed to us, each used his own spoon in dipping sugar from a -bowl which was passed from hand to hand. The butter, in a half-melting -condition, and dark with imprisoned flies, was within reach of us all, -and each helped himself with his knife, and then used it in conveying -food to his mouth. This last feat I did not try. There was in it a -suggestion of necromancy, and I had doubts of my success. We ate in -silence, as though the gravity of the occasion was beyond speech. The -farmer did not appear until we had finished breakfast, and I waited at -the kitchen-door for orders from him.</p> - -<p>He came at last, kind and cordial as ever, but quite changed in purpose -regarding my going to work. He urged my confessed inexperience, and the -danger of exposure to the sun. I protested my willingness to assume -the risks, and begged to be allowed at least to work for what had been -given me. But he would not listen, and appeared to think that he set -matters right by assuring me repeatedly that to what I had received I -was "perfectly welcome." His wife gave me, at parting, some tracts, and -a religious newspaper, and in these I found presented, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> somewhat -lurid light, the evil consequences of insobriety.</p> - -<p>Knowing that I was within walking distance of Garrisons-on-Hudson, -I resolved to reach that point before night. My letters had been -forwarded there, and my eagerness to get them was of a kind -unexperienced before. It was Saturday, and, late in the afternoon, I -reached Garrisons after a hard day's march. The heat was intense, and -although I walked but a little more than twenty miles, the effort of -carrying my pack was thoroughly exhausting. The woman in charge at the -post-office was in evident doubt about the safety of giving me so large -a packet of letters, but yielded at sight of others which I showed her, -and readily agreed to look after my pack until I should call for it.</p> - -<p>Between the station and the river was a tavern, and there I meant to -apply for work. As I neared the station platform, a train from New -York drew in. Something familiar in one of the passengers who alighted -put me on my guard. In a moment I recognized a fellow-guest at a -dinner-party of a few evenings before, and I remembered, with an odd -sense of another existence, that, over our coffee, on a broad veranda, -overlooking a harbor, bright with the night-lights of a squadron of -yachts, he had given me the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> benefit of an amazing familiarity with the -details of the recent baccarat scandal. My anxiety was needless, for I -easily passed unnoticed in the crowd.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i024.jpg" id="i024.jpg"></a><img src="images/i024.jpg" alt="I EASILY PASSED UNNOTICED IN THE CROWD" /></div> - -<p class="bold">I EASILY PASSED UNNOTICED IN THE CROWD.</p> - -<p>I walked on to the tavern. Its keeper was busy behind the bar when I -asked him for a job. He surprised me immensely with a ready promise of -work, and he asked me to wait until he could arrange matters. I went -into an adjoining room, and took out my letters.</p> - -<p>It was the pool-room, and the walls were hung with colored prints of -prize-fighters, with arms folded on their bare chests in a way that put -their biceps much in evidence. And there were pictures of race-horses -which had won distinction. An old, much-battered pool-table occupied -the middle of the room. Around the walls ran a rough wooden bench. -Dirt was everywhere conspicuous. The ceiling and walls were filthy. -The floor was bare and unswept, and there were accumulations of dust -about the table-legs and in the corners under the benches, which could -be accounted for only by a liberal allowance of time. The two small -windows, through which one could see the dismal tavern yard, apparently -had never been washed.</p> - -<p>I sat on a bench, and opened the letters. The dim past of my -"respectable" life began to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> brighten with increasing vividness. Quite -lost to present surroundings, I was suddenly recalled to them by the -appearance of the boss, who came with a cloth in hand, with which he -aimlessly dusted the table while he questioned me. I was so absorbed -in letters that, for a moment, I could not place myself, nor in the -least account for the situation. The keeper was asking me what I could -do. This was a natural question under the circumstances; but it took -me by surprise, and it staggered me. I covered my confusion with a -profession of willingness to be useful, and of a desire to work. The -boss, a coarse, blear-eyed, sensuous-looking man, eyed me doubtfully, -and suddenly concluded that he had no work for me.</p> - -<p>But I was wide awake now. I knew that the nearest farms were some miles -back in the country, and that, except at the tavern, I had slender -chance of food or shelter. I said that if there was work to be done, I -was eager to do it, and that if, after a trial, he found me incapable, -he could dismiss me at any moment.</p> - -<p>I fancied that I had gained my point, for he told me to follow him, as -he led the way into the kitchen. There we found the cook bending over a -range, in which the fire refused to burn. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Mrs. Murphy," said the boss, "here's a man I've hired to help Sam," -and then he turned sharply upon me with a "Damn you now, work! if you -know how to work!"</p> - -<p>My opportunity lay in the smouldering fire, so I hastened to the -wood-pile, and presently returned with an armful of fine wood which -insured a fire for dinner.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Murphy was a little, old, emaciated Irish woman, with her -thin white hair parted in the middle, smoothed back, and twisted -into a careless knot on her crown. Her face was wrinkled almost to -grotesqueness, and she had the passive air of one to whom can come no -surprises of joy or sorrow, as though the capacity for sensation were -gone, and life had reduced itself to mere existence. I watched for -opportunities of helping her, and she accepted the services as though -she had been accustomed to them always.</p> - -<p>She began to interest me deeply. I learned from her that Sam, whom I -was hired to help, was a scullion and stable boy. When she had nothing -further for me to do in the kitchen, I returned to the wood-pile, -and chopped industriously, hoping to give evidence of my fitness for -the place. In an hour or more the proprietor called me, intending, I -supposed, to give me a change of work; but, instead, he gave me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> a -quarter, and told me, not unkindly, but firmly, that he did not want me.</p> - -<p>The situation was discouraging. I had tramped some twenty miles through -dust and heat over a hilly country, and since the early morning I had -had nothing but a few apples to eat. Besides, it was fast growing dark, -and so too late to look for work on the farms back in the country.</p> - -<p>The immediate neighborhood is largely taken up with country-seats, -and I made repeated efforts to get work at the hands of a gardener. I -soon discovered that I was in a community where special provision is -made against my class. At the carriage gates I not infrequently found -a notice which warned me of the presence of dogs, and although the -dogs gave me no trouble, a lodge-keeper, or footman, or gardener, upon -learning my errand, was invariably seized with fervent anxiety for -getting me unnoticed out of the grounds.</p> - -<p>At nightfall I walked back to the tavern, and asked the proprietor -if I might sleep in his stables. To my surprise, he was exceedingly -friendly. He readily agreed to that, and, of his own accord, he invited -me to remain at the tavern over Sunday, and to take my meals in the -kitchen; and he added that, on Monday <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>morning, he would give me some -work to do as compensation.</p> - -<p>Already I had made a friend of the cook, and she now received me -warmly. Perhaps it was her habitual good-nature, for she had the same -kindly manner toward the other men, Sam and the three Irish section -hands from the railway, who took their meals with her. More than ever I -was attracted to her. She cordially greeted the workmen as they entered -her hot, reeking, ill-lit kitchen, addressing them by affectionate -diminutives of their first names, as Johnnie and Jimmie and the like. -They clearly had a warm regard for her, and they respectfully lowered -their voices and said "ma'am" in addressing her. To be sure they swore -viciously in her presence; but then she swore, too, not ill-naturedly, -but simply as an habitual means of emphasizing her usual language.</p> - -<p>I watched her for some sign of ill-temper. In stifling quarters and -under exasperating inconveniences she toiled on at work far beyond her -strength, not patiently merely, but with the cheerfulness which is -always thoughtful of the comfort of others.</p> - -<p>In spite of fatigue, that night in the stable was not a restful one. -The air lay heavy and hot in the unventilated loft, and through the -night the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> horses, tortured by flies, stamped ceaselessly in their -stalls. About midnight two men came into the barn. I soon knew them -for bedless wanderers like myself, and I awaited them in the hay with -an interest that was lively. They did not climb to the loft, but lay -down in a wagon; and for an hour or more I heard their gruff voices in -antiphonal sentences replete with strange oaths. They were speaking in -low tones and not excitedly, but their speech seemed little else than -profanity.</p> - -<p>The heat and darkness intensified the quiet of the night. The -breathless stillness was broken only by the hoarse blasphemies below, -and the nervous stamping of the pestered brutes. I tried to shut out -the sounds, and at last fell asleep.</p> - -<p>In the early morning I awoke to a beautiful mid-summer Sunday, the -first of my vagrant life. Sam was whistling at his work in the stables -and the tramps were gone. I found a path behind the barn leading to a -point on the river-bank where I could bathe.</p> - -<p>The military cadets were out on Sunday parade, and the music of their -band was the summer morning itself, vocal in notes other than the songs -of birds, and the soft murmur of the river. The tents of the camp shone -spotlessly white on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> the bluffs above the water. Some of the buildings -were visible among the trees. The sheer approach to the Post and its -dark background of well-wooded highlands threw into strong relief its -commanding position. Among the hills to the north the river appears. -The immediate section of it might be a lake, girt with steep hills, -that are dense with infinite shades of green. About the Post the river -sweeps in a magnificent curve, and disappears among the hills to the -south.</p> - -<p>The few books that my pack contained made generous amends, on this -day of rest, for the weight which they had added to my load. After -breakfast I took one of them to a shaded corner of the church-yard, and -read there until the service hour, and then I slipped into a seat half -hidden by the baptismal font.</p> - -<p>In his sermon the rector contrasted the emasculated ideas of the -present with reference to God's judgment of sin, with the virile -thinking of the Middle Ages, expressed in such works of art as Dante's -Inferno, and Angelo's Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel. Earnestly -and eloquently he pleaded the reality of spiritual things to the minds -of men in those ages of belief, and then he solemnly urged a return to -the plain truths of inspiration, and to the teaching of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> Church, -that "God cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance," and -that the punishment of unrepented evil is "eternal death."</p> - -<p>The church was well filled, and I looked it over with a quickened -interest. The sexton and I, so far as I could see, were the only -representatives of the poor. Outside were a number of coachmen and -grooms and nurse-maids; but these, it is likely, were of another -persuasion. Certainly they would have looked curiously out of place -to our Protestant eyes among that well-dressed, prosperous company. -I knew this body of worshippers at a glance; some of them I knew -personally. It was easy to follow them all in imagination to country -houses where the afternoon would be spent in what escape there offered -from the heat. On the next day would be begun again the round of -wholesome recreation and of social intercourse, relieved from the -formality of town life, which makes up the summer rest, and which -implies the leisure which is rendered possible only by the continuous -work of a multitude of the poor, who constitute the parts of intricate -social and domestic machinery. I seem to be dwelling upon a costly -immunity from physical labor. It was not this that appealed to me. -These worshippers had leisure, but they were far from being idle. My -personal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> acquaintance went far enough to recognize among them persons -whose lives are full of strenuous activity in channels of splendid -usefulness. It was the social cleavage which yawned to my vision from -the new point of view. The rich were there in the house of God, but not -the poor; and the very atmosphere of the place seemed to preclude the -presence of the poor.</p> - -<p>I had asked Sam to go to church with me. Sam had been watering the -horses, and now had an empty bucket in each hand and some tobacco in -his mouth. He stood still for a moment, regarding me intently, and -shifting the tobacco from one cheek to the other. Then he asked me with -much directness if I took him for a "dude." I said that I should then -go alone. "That way?" asked Sam, with an eye to my gear. "It is the -best that I can do," I explained. "Then go, and be fired for a bum," he -replied, as he moved on toward the pump.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER II</span> <span class="smaller">A DAY-LABORER AT WEST POINT</span></h2> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Highland Falls, N. Y.</span>, <br />Monday, August 3, 1891.</p> - -<p>At three o'clock on Saturday afternoon I decided to quit work on -the old Academic building. I went up to the boss and told him of my -intention, as I had seen other men do, and was ordered into the office; -there, without a moment's delay, the timekeeper's books were consulted, -and No. 6 was paid the five dollars and eighty-five cents which were -due him. Five dollars are gone to Mrs. Flaherty for board; seventy-five -cents more will be owing to her to-morrow morning for another day, and -then I shall set out on the road with ten cents in my pocket.</p> - -<p>I had calculated upon a balance far in excess of that; for when I went -to work on Tuesday, five full working-days were before me, and, at a -wage of one dollar and sixty cents, they were to yield an income of -eight dollars. My reckoning left out the chance of rain. For three -days passing showers drove us to cover, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> "called time" was as -closely noted by the boss as it is by the referee in a foot-ball game; -only we were given no chance to make it up.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Flaherty's home has a real hold upon my affections. It is one -in my mind with the blessed interludes of rest which were brief -transitions from one æon of work to another. My acquaintance with the -household covers a period of incalculable time. Mrs. Flaherty wears -toward me now a motherly air of possession; and she wrinkles her brows -in perplexed protest when I tell her that I am going away in the -morning, with no knowledge of where I shall find another place; and -she wipes her mouth with the corner of her apron, and tells me, with -increasing emphasis, that I'd better stay by my job, and let her care -for me decently, and not go wandering about the country, and, as likely -as not, come to harm.</p> - -<p>Her husband is a painter, a little round man with red hair and high -spirits, who is a well-preserved veteran of the Civil War, and very -fond of telling you of his life as a "recruitie."</p> - -<p>Minnie is their daughter. She inherits her father's hair, and gives -promise of his rotundity. But just now Minnie is fifteen, and the world -is a very interesting and exciting place. She took her first communion -last Easter, and still wears<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> her confirmation dress on Sundays, and -is really pretty in a blushing effort to look unconscious when Charlie -McCarthy calls.</p> - -<p>Charles appears regularly on Sunday afternoons, I gather. He is a -driver for an ice-dealer, is not much older than Minnie, and is very -proud of a light-gray suit and a pair of highly polished brown boots.</p> - -<p>Tom is Minnie's only brother. He is a stoker on a river-boat, and can -spend only his Sundays at home. Tom is a little past his majority, and -takes himself very seriously as a man. He tells you frankly that he -is earning "big money," and is anxious that you shall not escape the -knowledge that he is a libertine.</p> - -<p>The child that he is came comically to the surface last night, with no -least regard for the newly found dignity of manhood. Tom shares one of -the beds in my room, and in the middle of the night he came bounding -to the floor in a nightmare, and running to the door began pounding -it with both hands, and screaming, "Papa! Papa!" like a child in a -paroxysm of fear. He soon woke himself, and then he slunk into bed and -was surly with us as we crowded about him, eager to know the cause of -this violent awaking.</p> - -<p>Jerry and Pete and Jim and Tom Wilson and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> I are the boarders. Wilson's -is the only surname that I know. Surnames are little in use on this -level of society; they smack of a certain formality like that which -attaches to Sunday clothes. We were all sitting on the porch after -supper on my first evening, and I knew that the men were taking my -measure. Jerry broke the silence with an abrupt inquiry after my name. -I responded with my surname. Jerry took his pipe from his mouth, and -turned to me with some warmth: "That's not what I want to know. What's -your first name? What's a man to call you?" "Oh, call me John," I said, -with sudden inspiration, and I have passed as "John" accordingly.</p> - -<p>Wilson and I worked together at unskilled labor, and we have a bed in -common; and it was during a night of fearful heat, when neither of us -could sleep, that Wilson, in a burst of confidence, told me his full -name.</p> - -<p>I had noticed him as a new-comer on the works on Wednesday morning. -He accepted the job with alacrity, and, in spite of evident physical -weakness, he went to work with feverish energy. At noon hour we shared -a dinner, and he told me that he had slept in the open for three nights -running, and had had nothing to eat since the previous noon. I referred -him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> to Mrs. Flaherty, and at supper I found him at a place at her -table.</p> - -<p>It was that night that he gave me his confidence. Two years ago he -came to America from the north of Ireland. From the first he had -found it hard to get work, and he had never kept a job long. This was -chiefly due, he said, to his having been brought up to the work in the -linen-mills, and to the difficulty that he found in adapting himself to -any other. And now his narrative suddenly glowed with active personal -interest, for, with each succeeding sentence about his apprenticeship -in Lurgan, there rose into clearer memory visions of a charming -fortnight once spent at the home of the owners of the mill.</p> - -<p>I have set for myself to-day the task of describing the past week of -actual service in the ranks of the industrial army. My pen runs wide -of the subject, and I have to force it to the retrospect. There were -five working-days of nine hours and a quarter each, less the "called -time" eaten out by the rain. Never was there clearer proof of the -pure relativity of time measured by an artificial standard. Hours had -no meaning; there were simply ages of physical torture, and short -intervals when the physical reaction was an ecstasy. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> - -<p>We were called at six on Tuesday morning; and at twenty minutes to -seven we had breakfasted, and were ready to start for the works, each -with his dinner folded in a piece of newspaper. Passing from our side -street to the road which leads to the Post, we were at once merged in a -throng of workingmen moving in our direction.</p> - -<p>I was suddenly aware of a novel impression of individuality. Gangs of -workingmen, as I recalled them, were uniform effects in earth-stained -jeans and rugged countenances, rough with a varying growth of stubborn -beard. To have distinguished among them would have seemed like -distinguishing among a crowd of Chinese. Now individuality began to -appear in its vital separateness, and to awaken the sense of infinite -individual sensation, from which we instinctively shrink as we do from -the thought of unbroken continuity of consciousness.</p> - -<p>But my eyes were growing sensitive to other differences, certainly -to the broad distinction between skilled and unskilled workmen. Many -orders of labor were represented—masons and carpenters and bricklayers -and plasterers, besides unskilled laborers. An evident superiority -in intelligence, accompanied by a certain indefinable superiority in -dress, was the general<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> mark of skilled labor. And then the class of -unskilled workers was noticeably heterogeneous in composition, while -many of the other class were plainly of American birth.</p> - -<p>It is a mile from Highland Falls to West Point, and we moved briskly. -There was little conversation among the men. Most of them had taken off -their coats, and with these over their arms and their dinner-pails in -hand, they walked in silence, with their eyes on the road. The morning -was sultry and overhung with heavy clouds, full of the promise of rain. -A forest lines much of the road, and from the overhanging boughs fell -great drops of dew, dotting the surface of soft dust. The wayside weeds -and bushes were gray with a coating of dust, and seemed to cry out in -the still, hot air for the suspended rain.</p> - -<p>The old Academic building stood near to the Mess Hall at the southern -end of the Post. In process of removal one wing had been blown up by -dynamite, I was told, and now its site lay deep in heaps of débris. It -was here that one gang of laborers was employed, and it was with them -that the boss had instantly given me a job upon my application on the -previous morning.</p> - -<p>There were about sixty men in the company. Most of them stood grouped -among the ruins,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> ready to begin work on the hour. I had but to -follow their example. I hung my coat, with my dinner in one pocket, -on a neighboring fence, and brought a shovel from the tool-house, and -joined the other men. We stood silent, like a company at attention. -The teamsters drove up with their carts, and the bosses counted them. -In another moment the head boss, who had been keeping his eye on his -watch, shut the case with a sharp metallic click, and shouted "Turn -out!" in stentorian tones.</p> - -<p>The effect was magical. The scene changed on the instant from one of -quiet to one of noisy activity. Men were loosening the ruined mass with -their picks, and urging their crow-bars between the blocks of stone, -and shovelling the finer refuse into the carts, and loading the coarser -fragments with their hands. The gang-boss, mounted upon a section of -wall, began to direct the work before him. A cart had been driven -among the ruins, and he called three of us to load it with the jagged -masonry that lay heaped about it. It was too coarse to be handled with -shovels, and we went at it with our hands. They were soon bleeding from -contact with the sharp edges of rock; but the dust acted as a styptic -and helped vastly in the hardening process. When the cart was loaded, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>another took its place, and then a third and a fourth.</p> - -<p>In a harsh, resonant voice the boss was shouting his orders over our -heads, to the farthermost portion of the works. His short, thickset, -muscular figure seemed rooted to the masonry on which he stood. The -mingled shrewdness and brute strength of his hard face marked him as a -product of natural selection for the place that he filled. His restless -gray eyes were everywhere at once, and his whole personality was tense -with a compelling physical energy. If the work slackened in any portion -of the ruins, his voice took on a vibrant quality as he raised it to -the shout of "Now, boys, at it there!" and then a lash of stinging -oaths. You could feel a quickening of muscular force among the men, -like the show of eager industry in a section of a school-room that has -fallen suddenly under the master's questioning eye.</p> - -<p>In the dust which rose from the débris I picked up a mass of heavy -plaster, and, before detecting my mistake, I tossed it into the cart. -But the boss had seen the action, and instantly noticed the error, -and now all his attention was directed upon me. In short, incisive -sentences, ringing with malediction, he cursed me for an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> ignoramus and -threatened me with discharge. I could feel the amused side-glances of -the men, and could hear their muffled laughter.</p> - -<p>At last all the carts were loaded and driven away, and until their -return, some of us were set at assorting the débris—throwing the -splintered laths and bricks and fragments of stone and plaster into -separate heaps. The work compelled a stooping posture, and the pain of -lacerated fingers was as nothing compared with the agony of muscles -cramped and forced to unaccustomed use.</p> - -<p>A business-like young fellow, with the air of a clerk, now began -to move among the men, and they showed the keenest interest in his -approach. I heard them speak of him as the "timekeeper," but I had no -knowledge of such a functionary, and I wondered whether he had any -business with me. He hailed me with a brisk "What is your number?" I -looked at him in surprise. "He's a new hand," shouted the boss from his -elevation. "What's your name?" asked the timekeeper, as he turned a -page in his book. I told him, and when he had written it he drew from -his pocket a brass disk, upon which was stamped the number six, and -this he told me to wear, suspended by its string, and to show it to him -as often as he made his rounds. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> - -<p>The cartmen had reappeared and received their loads, and had again -driven off, in long procession, in the direction of Highland Falls. -We went back to the varied torture of assorting. But the pain was -not purely physical. The work was too mechanical to require close -attention, and yet too exhausting to admit of mental effort. I did not -know how to prevent my mind from preying upon itself.</p> - -<p>At last I hit upon a plan which appealed to me. I simply went back in -imagination to the familiar country-seat, and followed the morning -through a likely course. We met at breakfast, and complained of the -discomfort of the sultry day as we discussed our plans, and then we -walked over the lawn to the pier. Two cruising sloops, that had waited -in the hope of a freshening breeze, now weighed anchor, and under -main-sail and top-sail and jib drifted slowly out of the harbor. We -watched them in idle curiosity, wondering at the distinctness with -which the conversation of the yachtsmen came back to us across the oily -placidity of still water, until they seemed almost half way to the -spindle, and then we agreed upon a morning ride. We telephoned to the -stables, and before we were ready the horses stood restless under the -<i>porte-cochère</i>. Step by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> step I followed our progress along the road -that skirts the inlet, and across the crumbling bridge on the turnpike, -and under the great, drooping elms which line the village-street in -Fairfield, and up the long ascent of the Greenfield Hill to the old -church, and then home by the "back road." The dogs came running at us -from the stables with short, sharp barks of welcome as we cantered -past, and we called to them by name. As we turned by the reservoir, we -could see a groom running down the path in order to reach the house -before us. Hot from the ride, we passed through the dim mystery of -the hall and billiard-room and den, and out upon the veranda, where -a breath of air was stirring, and the fountain played softly in its -bed of vines and flowers. Louis had returned from market. Our letters -lay in order on the settle, and near them, neatly folded, were the -morning papers. And now Louis's approach was heralded by the tinkling -of ice against the glass of bumpers of cooling drinks, and his bow was -accompanied with a polite reminder that luncheon would be served in -half an hour.</p> - -<p>I had been working with all my strength. Now I looked up at the boss -in some hope of a sign of the noon hour. There was none. Painfully I -went back to the work. Again I tried to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> find diversion in this new -device. Slowly, with double the needed time for each event, I followed -the morning through another imaginary series. Now I was sure that the -boss had made a mistake and had lost track of the time, and was working -us far into the afternoon. The clouds had thickened, and the growing -darkness I was certain was the coming night. Great drops of rain began -to fall, but the men paid them no heed. Soon the drops quickened to -a shower, and still the men worked on. The moisture from within and -without had made us wringing wet when the boss ordered us to quit. We -bolted for our coats and dinner-pails, and then huddled in the shelter -of the still-standing walls of the ruin. Through one of the great -doorways I caught sight of the tower of a neighboring building with a -clock in it. It was twenty minutes to nine! In all that eternity since -we began to load the first cart, we had been working one hour and forty -minutes, and had each earned about twenty-nine cents.</p> - -<p>The rain cost us an hour of working-time, and then we went back, and -found some relief from the earlier discomfort in the saturation which -had thoroughly settled the dust.</p> - -<p>In another hour, with no freshening of the air, the clouds faded out of -the sky. The sun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> shone full upon us, and there arose from the heaps of -ruin a mist heavy with the smell of damp plaster. But I had my "second -wind" at last, and I worked now with the feeling of some reserve of -physical strength. It was with surprise that I heard the loud voice of -the head boss in a shout of "Time's up!" and almost before I knew what -had happened the men were seated on the ground, in the shadows of the -walls, eating their dinners.</p> - -<p>I opened mine with much curiosity. There were two huge sandwiches, -with slices of corned beef between the bread, and a bit of cheese and -a piece of apple-pie, very damp and oozing. Among the other men, with -my aching back pressed against the wall, I sat and ate my dinner, -lingering over the last crumbs like a child with some rare dainty.</p> - -<p>At the end of the forty-five minutes allowed to us at noon, there -came again, from the head boss, the order to "Turn out." In a moment -the scene of the morning was renewed. There was the same alternation -between loading the carts and assorting the débris.</p> - -<p>We had been but a few minutes at work when the cadets went marching -past, on their way to mess. Familiar as most of the men were with -the sight, they seized eagerly upon the diversion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> that it offered. -The boss relaxed his vigilance. The work visibly slackened, as we -lent ourselves to the fascination of individual motion merged into -perfect harmony of collective movement. Conspicuous in the rear was -the awkward squad, very hot in its effort to walk erect, and keep its -shoulders back and its little fingers on the seams of its trousers. The -men laughed merrily at the comical contrast between such grotesquely -strenuous efforts at conformity and the ease and strength and grace of -the unison which preceded it.</p> - -<p>No rain came to give us breathing-space in the afternoon. Hour by hour -the relentless work went on. The sun had soon absorbed the last drop -of the morning rain, and now the ruins lay burning hot under our feet. -The air quivered in the heat reflected from the stone and plaster about -us; the fine lime-dust choked our breathing as we shovelled the refuse -into the carts. You could hear the muttered oaths of the men, as they -swore softly in many tongues at the boss, and cursed him for a brute. -But ceaselessly the work went on. We worked as though possessed by a -curious numbness that kept us half-unconscious of the straining effort, -which had become mechanical, until we were brought to by some spasm of -strained muscles. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> - -<p>But five o'clock came at last, and with it, on the second, the loud -"Time's up!" of the head boss. You could see men fairly check a tool -in its downward stroke, in their eagerness not to exceed the time -by an instant. In two minutes the tools were housed and the works -deserted, and the men were running like school-boys, with a clatter of -dinner-pails, in a competitive scramble for seats in the dump-carts, -which were moving toward Highland Falls.</p> - -<p>The hindmost were left to walk the mile to their lodgings. I fell in -with two old Irishmen, who noticed me with a friendly look, and then -went on with their conversation, paying me no further heed. But I felt -strangely at home with these old men. Their short, faltering steps -exactly suited my own, and I comfortably bent my back to the angle of -their stoop, not in an effort to simulate their figures, but because to -stand erect cost me exquisite agony.</p> - -<p>The men in the carts were soon out of our sight, but the remnant was -large and was thoroughly representative. We formed a weird procession, -this fragment of a company in the ranks of labor. There were few -native-born Americans, one or two perhaps, besides myself; but there -were Irish and Scandinavians and Hungarians and Italians and negroes.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i048.jpg" id="i048.jpg"></a><img src="images/i048.jpg" alt="A WEIRD PROCESSION" /></div> - -<p class="bold">A WEIRD PROCESSION, THIS FRAGMENT OF A COMPANY IN THE RANKS OF LABOR </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> - -<p>As a physical exertion, walking was not hard after our day's labor. -It was a change and a rest, and we must all have felt the soothing -refreshment in the breath of cool air which was moving down the river, -and in the soft light of the early evening, which brought out in new -loveliness the curves of the opposite hills and deepened the shades of -blue and green. My own appreciation of all this and more would have -been livelier but for two overpowering appetites, which were asserting -themselves with unsuspected strength. I was hungry, not with the hunger -which comes from a day's shooting, and which whets your appetite to -the point of nice discriminations in an epicure's dinner, but with a -ravenous hunger which fits you to fight like a beast for your food, and -to eat it raw in brutal haste for gratification. But more than hungry, -I was thirsty. Cold water had been in abundant supply at the works, and -we drank as often and as freely as we chose. But water had long since -ceased to satisfy. My mouth and throat were burning with the action of -the lime-dust, and the physical craving for something to quench that -strange thirst was an almost overmastering passion. I knew of no drink -quite strong enough. I have never tasted gin, but I remembered in one -of Froude's essays a reference to it as much in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> use among working-men, -and as being seasoned to their taste by a dash of vitriol, and eagerly -I longed for that.</p> - -<p>Half-way down the road we met some young women in smart dog-carts -driving to the sunset parade at the post. In the delicate fabric and -color of summer dress they seemed to us the embodiment of the cool of -the evening. Suddenly I looked with a keener interest. With her fingers -outstretched she was shading her eyes from the horizontal rays of the -setting sun, and she did not see us, rather saw through us, as through -something transparent, the familiar objects on the roadside. I had -seen her last in town at a wedding at St. Thomas's, and fate unkindly -sent her up the aisle on the arm of another usher. I laughed aloud, -a short, harsh laugh, that escaped me before I was aware, and that -had in it so odd a quality that it gave me an uncomfortable feeling -of unacquaintance with myself. The two old Irishmen turned inquiring -glances at me, and appeared disturbed at my serious look.</p> - -<p>My room, when I reached it, was, in spite of wide-opened windows, like -Nero's bath at Baiæ. The ceiling and walls glowed with stored-up heat. -Jim was there making ready for supper, and I could hear Jerry and Pete -in their room in similar preparation. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> - -<p>When I put my hands into the cold water, I could scarcely feel them; -but the pain of cleansing grew sharp, and yet, when I had thoroughly -washed them, although the fingers felt double their normal size, they -were really less swollen, and were far on the way to comfort.</p> - -<p>The reaction had set in now, and I could feel it in great, cooling -waves of physical well-being. The table was heaped with supper, huge -slices of juicy sirloin, and dishes of boiled potatoes and cabbage and -beans, from which the steam rose in fragrant clouds. By each plate was -a large cup of tea, so strong and hot that it bit like lye, and it soon -washed away the burning lime-dust.</p> - -<p>We sat down with our coats and waistcoats off. The men were in the best -of good-humor, and the conversation ran into friendly talk. They asked -me how I liked my job. I thought much better of it by this time, and I -tried to wear the air of critical content. They may have had their own -notions about my previous experience of manual labor, but certainly -they did not obtrude these with any show of suspicion. They accepted me -as a working-man on perfectly natural terms. Until Wilson came I was -the only unskilled laborer among them, but my different grade was no -barrier to our intercourse,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> and we met and talked with the freedom of -men whose experience is innocent of conventional restraints.</p> - -<p>Long after supper we sat on the porch, smoking in the twilight. A deep -physical comfortableness possessed us. Each mouthful of meat and drink -had wrought miraculous healing, and had restored wasted energy in -measures that could be felt. My muscles were sore, but the very pain -turned to pleasure in the ease of relaxation.</p> - -<p>The men were town artisans, skilled laborers, attracted here by the -abundance of work. Jerry was a plasterer, and Pete a bricklayer, and -Jim a stone-mason. A short, slender figure, a smooth-shaven face -with small, sharp, regular features, black hair, and gray eyes, is a -sufficient outline of Jerry's personality. His air was that of a cynic, -and there was a cynical flavor in his speech, but the sting of it was -gone at the sight of his soft gray eyes, full of generous reserve of -human kindness.</p> - -<p>Pete was a well-set-up young fellow, of twenty-five, perhaps, plainly -of German parentage. Like Jerry, he was smooth-shaven, and there was a -striking contrast between his dark hair and his singularly fair skin -and blue eyes. He was a bricklayer, and ambitious of promotion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> He -spoke hopefully of an appointment in the Navy Yard as a result of a -recent examination.</p> - -<p>Jim was the only married man among us. His wife and three children -were in Brooklyn, and Jim went home every Saturday night, and spent -Sunday with them. He was a handsome young Scotsman, with curling brown -hair, and brown eyes, and a well-formed mustache, and a round face with -full features. In the casual flow of our talk, Jim spoke of Burns, and -quoted him with a ready familiarity. It was easy to catch the drift of -his liking. Its set was steadily toward passages which sing the wrongs -and oppression of the poor. Jim had none of the tricks of a declaimer; -but with jerks of unstudied emphasis he repeated familiar lines until -you were conscious of new meaning and strength. He was sitting with his -chair tilted against the wall, and his heels resting on a round, and -his hands clasped about his knees. His eyes were fixed upon the evening -gloom as he recited:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Man's inhumanity to man</div> -<div>Makes countless thousands mourn.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The verses seemed exactly to fit his mood, for he repeated them again -and again, with lingering liking for their sense and alliteration.</p> - -<p>Jerry broke in abruptly here with sudden,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> unmeasured condemnation -of the dulness of evenings in a country town in the absence of the -theatre, pronounced theátre. The drama had fired his imagination for -the moment, for he broke through his wonted reserve and waxed fluent as -he expressed his views:</p> - -<p>"When I go to the theátre, I go to laugh. I want to see pretty girls -and lots of them, and I want to see them dance. I want songs as I can -understand the words of, and lots of jokes, and horse-play. You don't -get me to the theátre to see no show got up by Shakespeare, nor any -of them fellows as lived two thousand years ago. What did they know -about us fellows as is living now? Pete, you mind that Tim Healy in the -union, him that's full of wind in the meetings? Onct he give me a book -to read, and he says it's a theátre piece wrote by Shakespeare, and the -best there was. I read more'n an hour on that piece, and I'm damned if -there was a joke into it, nor any sense neither."</p> - -<p>We were presently yawning under the stars, and I was more than -glad when the men spoke of bed. Almost in the next moment, to my -consciousness, Mrs. Flaherty was knocking on the door, bidding us wake -and not to go to sleep again, for it was six o'clock.</p> - -<p>Of the five, this second day was the hardest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> My body was sore in -every part when I began to work, and the help of hardening muscles I -did not gain until the third day. Mrs. Flaherty had skilfully bound -up the slight wounds on my fingers. The merciful rain came twice to -our relief, once in the morning and again in the afternoon. But this -was not an unmixed blessing, for in the minutes of delay we could but -calculate the growing loss in wages, and watch the sure vanishing of -any surplus above actual living expenses. I remember making an estimate -on my way to my lodgings that evening, and it was with much sinking of -heart that I discovered that my earnings made a total rather less than -the cost of the day's living.</p> - -<p>There has been difficulty in the way of intercourse with the men. I -speak no Italian, nor any of the Scandinavian tongues, so that my -acquaintance has been confined to my own countrymen, who are few in -number in the gang, and to the Irishmen and negroes, and an occasional -Hungarian who understands my stammering German. And within the -English-speaking circle, in the absence of this, there have been other -barriers. There is wanting that social freedom that is most natural -in Mrs. Flaherty's home. There is much of it among the foreigners. -They hang together at their work, and sit in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> separate groups through -the noon hour, and one commonly hears, especially among the Italians, -that picturesque volubility which sets you wondering as to the subject -of such fluent debate. Among the English-speaking men, the Irish and -negroes are as Jews and Samaritans; but aside from this, the general -attitude is one of sullen suspiciousness. Few appear to know the -others, and not even their wretchedness draws them to the relief of -companionship. Sometimes we hear warm greetings among acquaintances, -or see some show of friendliness, but this is markedly out of keeping -with the general tone of things. The usual intercourse is an exchange -of experiences, an account of the circumstances which brought them to -their present lot, among men who happen to be working side by side or -sitting in company at the noon hour. Quite as commonly one hears only -muttered curses against the boss.</p> - -<p>You would gather from their own accounts that many of the men are -unused to unskilled labor. There is a singular uniformity in their -histories. Nearly all have seen better days, and are now but tiding -over a dull season in their trades, or are earning enough to take them -to some other part of the country, where there is a quickening in the -demand for their labor. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> - -<p>I found myself growing doubtful of these unvarying tales. The mechanism -became too apparent. "I am really an efficient and energetic workman," -each seemed to say; "you see me now in a strait of circumstances. You -should see me at my trade, in which I am an adept. I am out of that -employment now because of depression in the business, but when business -revives, or when I can reach Chicago or St. Louis or Minneapolis, my -labor will be in strong demand." Irresistibly one is led to the belief -that most of these men probably have no trade, or, at the best, are -inefficient workmen, who, unable to keep a job long, habitually pick up -a living at work like this, in the careless makeshift of a shiftless -life.</p> - -<p>It is refreshing to meet others who are frankly laborers. All their -lives they have been bred to unskilled labor, and they make no pretence -of anything different. They are hard men who look out upon a world that -is hard to them at every point of contact; but they are true men, by -virtue of their honesty and directness, and one likes them accordingly. -Some of them are old, and it is pitiful to see them tottering under the -burden of years, and staying off actual want by forcing their rheumatic -limbs through the drudgery of this rude toil. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> - -<p>I had noticed the absence of one of this coterie for a day or two when, -in the middle of a morning's work, he appeared among the ruins. He was -an old Irishman. His face was swollen from toothache, and was bound up -in a cotton bandanna. His hands were clasped on his stooping back, and -he moved with the painful motion that suggests acute rheumatism. For a -time he stood watching us at our work and exchanging words with some -of the men about his complaints, when suddenly he burst into tears. -The men jeered him, and angrily told him to be gone. I had a sickening -feeling of cruelty as I saw him go sobbing down the road; but when I -spoke of him at the noon hour the men explained that it was a disgrace -to have him crying there, but that they would see that his wants were -provided for.</p> - -<p>There was a revelation in the discovery of the degree to which -profanity is ingrained in the vernacular of these men, as -representatives of the laboring poor. They swear with the readiness -of instinct, not merely in anger, when their language mounts to a -torrent of abuse unspeakably awful in its horrid blasphemies, but in -commonest intercourse, when their oaths are as meaningless as casual -interjections. And almost never is the rude hardness of their speech -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>softened by the amenities which seem so natural a part of language. -The imperative, more than any other mood, is rudely thrust into common -use. They are even punctilious in its employment.</p> - -<p>A single instance will serve to point the nature of this graceless -speech. Two boys of ten or twelve are employed in carrying water to -the men at their work. One carries his bucket through the building to -those engaged in the upper stories; and the other, a flaxen-haired, -delicate child whose thin legs bend under his burden, serves those -of us who are at work on the heaps below. Through all the day, and -especially in its greatest heat, the boys run busily from the works -to a neighboring pump, and return with bucketfuls of water, which are -at once surrounded by thirsty workmen and emptied in a few minutes. -Regardless of the prevailing custom, I always thanked the little fellow -for my drink. Soon I noticed that even this instinctive acknowledgment -seemed to embarrass him. In an interval of rest he came up to me, after -receiving my thanks. "You shouldn't thank me," he said. "And why not?" -I begged to know. "Because, you see, I'm <i>paid</i> to do this," was his -conscientious answer. A mere child, naturally gentle, and yet so bred -to rougher<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> usage that a simple "Thank you" jarred upon his sense of -right! A few minutes later I saw the two boys in a rough-and-ready -fight, and their language lacked none of the horror of that of their -elders.</p> - -<p>I shall be on the road again to-morrow morning, and I shall go as -penniless as I came, but somewhat richer in experience. I have been -through nearly a week of labor, and have survived it, and have honestly -earned my living as a working-man. In the future I shall have the -added confidence which comes of knowing that, if work offers, I shall -probably be able to perform it. But this is not the only cause of my -increased light-heartedness. I am frankly glad to get away from the job -on the old Academic building. This is a selfish feeling, and is not -without the cowardice of all selfishness. I hope for a job of another -kind, for a time at least, because I wish to see some hopefuller side -of the lot of common labor. When we draw too near to the hand of Fate, -and begin to feel as though there were a wrong in the nature of things, -it is best, perhaps, to change our point of view—if we can. This may -account for some of the drifting restlessness among working-men of my -class.</p> - -<p>The salient features of our condition are plain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> enough. We are -unskilled laborers. We are grown men, and are without a trade. In the -labor market we stand ready to sell to the highest bidder our mere -muscular strength for so many hours each day. We are thus in the lowest -grade of labor. We are here, and not higher in the scale, by reason -of a variety of causes. Some of us were thrown upon our own resources -in childhood, and have earned our living ever since, and by the line -of least resistance we have simply grown to be unskilled workmen. -Opportunities came to some of us of learning useful trades, and we -neglected them, and now we have no developed skill to aid us in earning -a living, and we must take the work that offers.</p> - -<p>Some of us were bred to farm labor, and almost from our earliest -recollection we worked in the fields, until, tiring of country life, -we determined to try some other; and we have turned to this work as -being within our powers, and as affording us a change. Still others -among us, like Wilson, really learned a trade; but the market offers no -further demand for the peculiar skill we possess, and so we are forced -back upon skilless labor. And selling our muscular strength in the open -market for what it will bring, we sell it under peculiar conditions. -It is all the capital that we have. We have no reserve means of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> -subsistence, and cannot, therefore, stand off for a "reserve price." -We sell under the necessity of satisfying imminent hunger. Broadly -speaking, we must sell our labor or starve; and as hunger is a matter -of a few hours, and we have no other way of meeting this need, we must -sell at once for what the market offers for our labor. And for some of -us there is other pressure, unspeakable, immeasurable pressure, in the -needs of wife and children.</p> - -<p>The contractor buys our labor as he buys other commodities, like brick -and iron and stone, which enter into the construction of the new -building. But he buys of us under certain restrictions to us both. The -law of supply and demand does not apply to our labor with the same -freedom as to other merchandize. We are human beings, and some of -us have social ties, which bricks and iron have not, and we do not, -therefore, move to favorable markets with the same ease and certainty -as these. Besides, we are ignorant men, and behind what we have to sell -is no trained intelligence, nor a knowledge of prices and of the best -means of reaching the best markets. And then we are poor men, who must -sell when we find a purchaser, for no "reserve price" is possible to us.</p> - -<p>The law of supply and demand meets with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> these restrictions and -others. If it applied with perfect freedom to our commodity, we should -infallibly be where is the greatest demand for our labor; and with -perfect acquaintance with the markets we should always sell in the -dearest. But the benefits of perfect freedom of supply and demand would -not be ours alone. If we sold in the dearest markets, the employer -would as certainly buy in the cheapest. He has capital in the form of -the means of subsistence, and can stand off for a "reserve price," -and could force us to sell at last in the pinch of hunger, and in -competition with starving men.</p> - -<p>As matters are, our wages might rise, in an increased demand for labor, -far above their present point; but even under pressure of decreasing -demand, and with scores of needy men eager to take our places, our -wages, if we had employment at all, would not fall far below their -present level. So much has civilization done for us. It does not insure -to us a chance to earn a living, but it does measurably insure to us -that what we earn by day's labor, such as this, will at least be a -living.</p> - -<p>As unskilled laborers we are unorganized men. We are members of no -union. We must deal individually with our employer, under all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> the -disadvantages which encumber our position in the market as compared -with his.</p> - -<p>But his position is not an enviable one. He is a competitor in a freer -market than ours. He has secured his contract as the lowest bidder, -under a keener competition than we know, and in every dime that he -must add to wages in order to attract labor, and in every dollar paid -to an inefficient workman, and in every unforeseen difficulty or delay -in the work, he sees a scaling from the margin of profit, which is -already, perhaps, the narrowest that will attract capital into the -field of production. The results of our labor are worth nothing to him -as finished product until given sections of the work are completed. In -the meantime he must advance to us our wages out of capital which is a -product of past labor, his own and ours as working-men, and of other -capital. And this he must continue to do, even if his margin of profit -should wholly disappear, and even if ultimate loss should be the net -result of the expenditure of his labor and capital. In every case, -before any other commodity has been paid for, we have insured to us the -price for which we have sold our labor.</p> - -<p>Our employer is buying labor in a dear market. One dollar and sixty -cents for a day of nine hours and a quarter is a high rate for -unskilled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> workmen. And the demand continues, for I notice that the -boss accepts every man who applies for a job. The contractor is paying -high for labor, and he will certainly get from us as much work as -he can at the price. The gang-boss is secured for this purpose, and -thoroughly does he know his business. He has sole command of us. He -never saw us before, and he will discharge us all when the débris is -cleared away and the site made ready for the constructive labors of the -skilled workmen. In the meantime he must get from us, if he can, the -utmost of physical labor which we, individually and collectively, are -capable of. If he should drive some of us to exhaustion, and we should -not be able to continue at work, he would not be the loser, for the -market would soon supply him with others to take our places.</p> - -<p>We are ignorant men, and we have a slender hold of economic principles, -but so much we clearly see: that we have sold our labor where we could -sell it dearest, and our employer has bought it where he could buy it -cheapest. He has paid high for it, but not from philanthropic motives, -and he will get at the price, he must get, all the labor that he can; -and, by a strong instinct which possesses us, we shall part with as -little as we can. And there you have, in its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> rudimentary form, the -bear and the bull sides of the market.</p> - -<p>You tell us that our interests are identical with those of our -employer. That may be true on some ground unknown to us, but we live -from hand to mouth, and we think from day to day, and we have no power -to "reach a hand through time, to catch the far-off interest of tears." -From work like ours there seems to us to have been eliminated every -element which constitutes the nobility of labor. We feel no personal -pride in its progress, and no community of interest with our employer. -He plainly shares this lack of unity of interest; for he takes for -granted that we are dishonest men, and that we will cheat him if we -can; and so he watches us through every moment, and forces us to -realize that not for an hour would he intrust his interests to our -hands. There is for us in our work none of the joy of responsibility, -none of the sense of achievement, only the dull monotony of grinding -toil, with the longing for the signal to quit work, and for our wages -at the end of the week.</p> - -<p>We expect the ready retort that we get what we deserve, that no field -of labor was closed to us, and that we are where we are because we -are fit, or have fitted ourselves, for nothing better.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> Unskilled -labor must be done, and, in the natural play of productive activity, -it must inevitably be done by those who are excluded from the higher -forms of labor by incapacity, or inefficiency, or misfortune, or lack -of ambition. And being what we are, the dregs of the labor market, -and having no certainty of permanent employment, and no organization -among ourselves, by means of which we can deal with our employer and he -with us by some other than an individual hold upon each other, we must -expect to work under the watchful eye of a gang-boss, and not only be -directed in our labor, but be driven, like the wage-slaves that we are, -through our tasks.</p> - -<p>All this is to tell us, in effect, that our lives are the hard, barren, -hopeless lives that they are because of our own fault, and that our -degradation as men is the measure of our bondage as workmen.</p> - -<p>This seems to state an ultimate fact, and then, with the habit of much -of such thinking, to settle itself peacefully, with an easy conscience, -behind the inevitable.</p> - -<p>But for us there is no such peace or comfort in the inevitable. And -yet, even in this statement of our case, we are not without hope. We -are men, and are capable of becoming better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> men. We may be capable of -no other than unskilled labor, but why should we be doomed to perform -it under the conditions which now degrade us at our work?</p> - -<p>Imagine each of us an ideal workman. Through all the hours of the -working-day we labor conscientiously, with no need of oversight beyond -intelligent direction; for each of us feels the keenest interest in the -progress of the work, because we are honest men, and, with far-sighted -knowledge, we know that by our best labor in any form of useful -production we are contributing our best to the general prosperity, as -well as our own, and that it is by our energy and personal efficiency -that we may open for ourselves a way to promotion. Here clearly is a -solution on ideal grounds. Is there no remedy that can reach us as we -are?</p> - -<p>Our ambition must be fired, our sense of responsibility awakened and -enlisted in our labor, our intelligences quickened to the vision of our -own interests in the best performance of our duty. Life will not be -rendered frictionless thereby. Work will still be hard, but to it will -be restored its dignity, its power to call into play the better part of -a man, and so build up his character.</p> - -<p>We have already seen how such an end is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> realized in the initial -betterment of character itself. Let us see whether something might not -be done by an initial improvement in the conditions of employment.</p> - -<p>Let us suppose now that we are not ideal characters, but ordinary men, -whose lot in life is to perform unskilled labor; but let us suppose -that we are an organized body of workmen. The contractor made terms -with us as an organized gang for the removal of the old building. Our -organization, from long experience of such work, was able to enter into -an eminently fair agreement. The contract rests upon a basis of time. -For the completed work we are to receive a fixed sum, provided that -it is finished by a given date. If we finish the work, according to -the terms of the contract, one week earlier, we are to receive a bonus -in addition to the fixed amount; if two weeks earlier, there will be -an increase in the bonus. In the meantime advances are to be made to -us, week by week, in the form of days' wages, but so regulated as to -protect the contractor against loss if the gang should fail to complete -the work.</p> - -<p>Every member of the gang is perfectly familiar with the terms of the -contract, and knows thoroughly the advantages of an early completion -of the job. We agree among ourselves upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> number of hours which -shall constitute a day's work, and from our own number we elect a -boss, who will give direction to our labor, and under whose orders we -bind ourselves to serve. It is no part of his duty now to stand guard -over us in the office of a slave-driver to prevent our shirking, for -we effectually perform that service for ourselves, seeing to it, with -utmost regard for our interests, that no man among us fails to do his -share in the common task. The boss is now the best and most intelligent -worker among us, and not only does he direct our efforts, but, with his -own hands, he sets the example of energetic work for the securing of -the best terms that the contract offers for our common good.</p> - -<p>In a true sense now we have got a job. It is ours. The work is hard, -but we have an object in working hard. Every stroke of labor is not -a listless, time-serving economy of effort, but an eager and willing -furthering of the work toward its completion and our own advantage. We -are glad in the progress of our job, even if we are glad from no higher -motive than our personal profit. We have a sense of responsibility and -the keen interest which comes of that, even if they rise in no better -source than our greed for gain.</p> - -<p>It is true that the root of the matter lies deeper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> than this. We may -work under hopefuller conditions and be, intrinsically, no better -men. Our selfishness may take on the refinement of the altruism that -merely seeks our own in the welfare of others; our ignorance may -become illumined by an enlightened self-interest; our vices may assume -respectability; and yet our old hardness of heart remain in full -possession of us. But the truly pertinent question is this: Nearer to -which of these ways of living lies the living way? In which have we the -better chance to become better men? Life in its present course is to -most of us a miserable bondage. We work daily to physical exhaustion; -and, with no power left for mental effort, our minds yield themselves -to the play of any chance diversion until they lose the power of -serious attention. In what constitutes for us the work of life there is -no pleasure, no education, no evoking of our better natures.</p> - -<p>All truly productive labor performed under right conditions is itself -a blessing. It partakes of the highest good that life offers. It is -a bringing of order out of chaos, a victory over forces which can be -reduced from evil mastery to useful service. It thus becomes the type -of that labor which is the work of life, the mastery of self in the -building of character. In this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> sense it was that the monks of the -Middle Ages framed their motto, <i>Laborare est Orare</i>—labor is prayer. -But robbed of its true conditions and reduced to the dishonor of -time-service under the eye of a slave-driving boss, who impels us with -insults infinitely more degrading than the lash, labor is no longer -prayer, but a blasphemy, which finds expression in the words which rise -readiest to our lips.</p> - -<p>I have been writing from the position of an unskilled workman, with no -apparent allowance for my newness to the life. The physical stress and -strain, for example, how different my experience of these as compared -with that of the other men inured to them by long habit! A year or two -of such labor, and how great the physical change! My hands would be -hard, and the friction of this work, so far from wounding them, would -render them the more impervious to harm. My muscles would be like iron, -and would lend themselves with far greater ease to the stress of manual -labor. Ten years would find me a seasoned workman.</p> - -<p>But under conditions of labor such as these, what changes other than -physical would there be? My body might be hardened in fibre to the -point of high efficiency in manual labor, but the hardening of mind -and character—is it likely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> that this would be of the nature of the -strength of more abundant life, or of the hardness of petrifaction?</p> - -<p>I have received the strangest kindness from the men, the most tactful -treatment of me as a novice. They laughed at my strenuous efforts to -do what was so much easier to them, and they laughed when the boss -singled me out for abuse, but never ill-naturedly, I thought. And those -who made up to me, and with whom I picked up acquaintance, showed -the kindest consideration. They never pressed me with embarrassing -questions, but fell gracefully into the easy assumption that I was a -factory hand or a "tradesman" out of a job. It was natural to adopt the -general strain and speak of plans which involved my going West.</p> - -<p>In spite of their roughness and hardness of manner and speech, one -never felt the smallest fear of these men, and you had a growing -feeling that their better natures were never far to seek. And yet in -reality here they were, a cursing, blaspheming crew; men upon whose -lives hopelessness seems to have settled; whose idea of work is a -slavish drudgery done from the instinct of self-preservation and to be -shirked whenever possible; whose idea of pleasure is abandonment to -their unmastered passions. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> - -<p>I had a purpose in quitting work in the middle of Saturday afternoon. -I went to my lodgings and asked Mrs. Flaherty for an early supper of -anything that she could give me without trouble. Then I brushed my -clothes and washed myself, and made myself as presentable as my slender -pack permitted. My beard was now of nearly two weeks' growth, and -my face was well burned by the sun, and my clothes, in spite of the -protection of overalls, were much labor-stained.</p> - -<p>I felt some security in my disguise, and after an early supper I walked -over to see the sunset parade. On the road I met the men returning from -the works, and had to run a gauntlet of questions as to whether I had -left the job for good, and what I meant to do.</p> - -<p>There was bustle in the camp; a running to and fro of cadets, who -appeared to be subject to many calls; a nervous appearing and vanishing -at the tent-doors of figures which were in process of achieving -parade-dress; a hasty personal inspection of arms and uniform; and then -suddenly, out of apparently inextricable confusion, there emerged, -without a trace of disorder, the two companies, in double lines of -perfect symmetry, before the inspecting officer.</p> - -<p>Then followed the sunset parade. Seated on the benches under the trees, -and grouped on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> turf behind, was an eager crowd watching intently, -in perfect stillness, every evolution of the cadets. The fascination -was in the sense it gave you of abounding life, of youth and strength -and vigor, brought to perfect unity in willing subordination to -authority. Here was the type of highest organization, the voluntary -submission of those who are "fit to follow to those who are fittest -to lead." So much has civilization achieved for the purpose of -self-defence. The mission of many of these young officers will be to -take such men as those with whom I have been working, and teach them -the manly lesson of obedience, and awaken in them the feelings of -courage and loyalty and <i>esprit de corps</i>. Civilization is yet a long -way from such organization for industrial ends, if ever such corporate -action will be possible or good; but certainly it will not belong -before civilization gives birth in increasing numbers to "captains of -industry," who will feel with their men other ties than the "<i>nexus</i> -of cash payment," and who will attack the problems of production with -other aims than selfish accumulation. Under the direction of such -leaders, workingmen will be led to far greater conquests over the -resources of nature than any in the past, and, sharing consciously in -these victories as the fruits of their own labors, there will open -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> them a new life of liberty and hope in willing allegiance to true -control.</p> - -<p>The intense satisfaction I felt in the rest of yesterday (Sunday) was -heightened by a feeling of hopefulness as I thought of the future of -workingmen in a country like ours. Here are almost boundless natural -resources, capable of supporting many times our present population. -Under the stimulus of private acclamation, what marvellous genius and -skill and enterprise have directed labor to the development of our -national wealth! When, with the growth of better knowledge, there is -added to this stimulus among the great leaders of industry a sincere -desire for the common good and a purpose to make the conditions of -employment the means of achieving this good, how far greater must be -the industrial results, and how far better the lives of the workers!</p> - -<p>I felt aglow with this idea as I walked, in the afternoon, down the -road below Highland Falls. It was a warm mid-summer day, and in keeping -with its restful quiet the air moved gently among the leaves in the -tree-tops. I was disturbed by the sound of music from the deck of an -excursion steamer, and, seized with sudden desire for a glimpse of the -river, I vaulted a low stone wall, and quickly made my way over the -mossy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> carpeting of a wood which covers the bluff above the water.</p> - -<p>I did not see, at first, the abrupt ending of the wood and the sweep of -an open lawn, and when I caught sight of that I was only a few yards -from a rustic bench. There two persons sat, with their backs toward me, -but I recognized the girl at once as an acquaintance, and I knew that -I was a trespassing vagrant. The man I knew well, for he was a college -classmate and a charming fellow, and I longed to ask his views on the -question of the improvement of the lot of unskilled laborers by means -of organization.</p> - -<p>But I grew painfully conscious of my work-stained clothes, and my faded -flannel shirt, and the holes in my old felt hat, and of how all these -marked me as belonging now to another world. And so I quietly stole -away and returned to "mine own people."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER III</span> <span class="smaller">A HOTEL PORTER</span></h2> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">The Highlands, Orange County, N. Y.</span>,<br /> -Tuesday, 25 August, 1891.<span class="s3"> </span></p> - -<p>I am now a hotel porter. More strictly, I have just resigned my -position, and with the net proceeds of three weeks' wages, which amount -to four dollars and two cents, I am ready to make a fresh start in the -early morning. The leisure of this last evening at the hotel I shall -give to the task of summing up the fragmentary notes which I have made -in such chance hours of rest as were to be had in a service which has -kept me on duty from five o'clock in the morning until eleven at night.</p> - -<p>Why I have lingered here so long I scarcely know. The time has flown -with amazing swiftness. I soon found my new job easily within my -powers, as compared with the last one, and I have felt a certain -restful security which has held me here for longer than I meant -to stay. But I am ready enough to set out now, and I feel again a -"yearning for the large excitement" that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> comes of life upon the open -highway, and the chances of a living earned by the work of my hands.</p> - -<p>I am not twenty miles beyond my last station at Highland Falls. It was -raining when I left Mrs. Flaherty's home, and she pleaded with me to -stay; but I had nothing with which to pay for further entertainment, -and I certainly had not the courage to return to the job on the old -Academic building. And so we parted, Mrs. Flaherty standing with arms -akimbo in the open door of her cottage, a final protest against so rash -a venture as her last word, while I lifted my hat to her and to Minnie, -who peered at me from the shadow of the passage behind her mother.</p> - -<p>It must be owned that the prospect was not encouraging to my new -departure. At intervals of less than a mile, sometimes, I was driven -to seek refuge from the rain. The mountain-road was soft with mud, -and a secure footing was a fruitless search. In the hot air the heavy -dampness added to the discomfort of walking. Only in a general way -I knew that the road would lead me eventually over the Highlands to -Middletown, which lies in my westward course. The beauty of the country -was lost upon me, for the mountain was cloaked in a heavy fog, and -all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> that rose visible were short, succeeding sections of muddy road, -bordered with forests of oak and hickory-nut and chestnut, with matted -weeds growing thick to the wagon-tracks, and clumps of blackberry -bushes standing here and there along the lines of tottering stone walls -and wooden fences.</p> - -<p>In the middle of the noon hour I reached Forest-of-Dean Mines. A -general supply store stands on the roadside. It was thronged with -Italian laborers. I waited in its shelter until the one-o'clock whistle -recalled the men to their work, and then I made terms with an Italian -boy, who was left in charge, for a five-cent dinner. The child spoke -English with perfect readiness. Almost concealed behind the counter, -he looked wonderfully important and business-like as he reached up to -apply the weights and fixed his great black eyes shrewdly upon the -oscillations of the balance. For five cents he agreed to give me two -ounces of cheese and six soda-crackers.</p> - -<p>This proved a hopelessly inadequate dinner, and by the middle of the -afternoon I was painfully hungry. It must have been between the hours -of three and four when, on a stretch of level road, I met a tall, -over-grown negro youth with a bucket of sour milk in each hand, which -was plainly destined for a pig-pen that I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> passed but a few yards -back. Looming dimly in the fog behind him, I could see the outlines of -a large frame structure with lightly built verandas engirding it. I -asked the youth what it was, and learned that it was a hotel, the "—— -House."</p> - -<p>'Did he think that I could get a job there?' He was doubtful of that, -but advised my seeing the "boss," whom I should find in the office. The -office was deserted when I entered it. Some men were playing billiards -in the larger room beyond, which, with the office, forms the ground -floor of a building detached from the main hotel, but joined by a -veranda on the upper story.</p> - -<p>I sat down, and began to dry my feet at a slow fire which burned -in an iron stove. Presently there came in a tall man, straight of -figure, with black eyes and hair and mustache and an uncommonly dark -complexion. I rose with an inquiry for the proprietor, and he sat -down with the assurance that he was the man. There were two definite -requests in my mind. I meant to apply first for a job; but, expecting -nothing of a permanent character, I resolved to ask work for the -remaining afternoon for the sake of food and a night's shelter from the -rain. To my surprise, instead of the negative I expected to my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> first -request, I found some encouragement in the proprietor's manner. He -owned to the need of a porter until the arrival, in a few days, of the -man who had been engaged for that position. I declared my willingness -to serve and to begin work on the moment. He pointed out that he did -not know me, and that he was not in the habit of engaging servants whom -he did not know. 'Besides, there was not much for the porter to do, and -for his services he was paid at the rate of eight dollars a month and -his board.' I was ready with a plea for a trial, if only for a single -day, and presently the proprietor consented.</p> - -<p>He rose, and at once began to instruct me in my duty. Standing on the -threshold between the office and billiard-room, he pointed to the -bare floors, and explained that they must be scrubbed every morning. -He then indicated the score or more of oil-lamps with which the rooms -were lighted, and said that these must be kept clean and filled. Next -he opened a door from the office into a small room in which was a cot. -That was to be my sleeping-place, and he showed me, in one corner, -buckets and a mop and a broom, which were intended for the porter's -use. Quite abruptly he asked to see my hat, and, wondering at the -request, I showed him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> the stained black felt with ragged holes in the -crown. "That won't do," he said, and with the word he took down from -a peg a porter's cloth cap with a patent-leather visor, and bade me -wear it at my work. It was much too small, but by dint of holding my -head with care I could keep it on; thus balancing the cap as best I -could, and with the broom in hand, I followed my employer for further -instructions. He led the way to the verandas, and explained that they -must be swept each morning before the guests are up, and again in the -afternoon, at the hour when they are least in use. They were nearly -deserted now, and the proprietor told me to begin my work by sweeping -them, and then he left me.</p> - -<p>I could have danced with sheer delight. Not if I had deliberately -planned it could I have effected a better arrangement. It fitted -my needs exactly. A change to lighter work for a time was almost a -necessity; for my hands were much blistered and torn, and they refused -to heal under the friction of my last employment. And then—and my -spirits rose buoyantly to this idea—here was a chance to see something -of domestic service, and such another, under conditions so favorable, -might not offer in all my journey across the continent. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> - -<p>"This morning," I thought to myself, "I was a roving laborer in search -of work and with but ten cents in my pocket; now I am a hotel porter, -with bed and board assured and an open field for observation, and some -certainty of a surplus, regardless of the weather, when I quit the job, -although, at its present rate, my daily wage is a fraction less than -twenty-seven cents."</p> - -<p>As I swept the verandas my plans began to form themselves with exciting -interest. "Here is clearly a splendid opportunity. I have been frankly -told that a porter is already engaged, and is on his way, and that -my occupancy of office is simply for the interregnum. Plainly, if I -can give evidence, in the meantime, of usefulness such that, when the -regular porter comes, I shall be continued in some employment about the -hotel, that will be a distinct achievement; and it will not be without -a bearing upon the practical question as to what a penniless man may -do for himself in the way of winning permanent employment that offers -chances of promotion." I resolved to bend all my energies to that.</p> - -<p>When the verandas were swept, I returned to the office and -billiard-room, and began to study the field. The floors were sadly in -need of scrubbing; many of the lamp chimneys were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> smoked, and all were -far from clean; the windows of both rooms were much weather-stained; -and the paint on the woodwork could be improved by a thorough washing. -I then went over the grounds, and found the walks in disorder, and the -lawns matted and strewn with litter.</p> - -<p>I lit the lamps at nightfall, and awaited a summons to supper. While -in the region of the kitchen I noticed that an extra hand might often -prove of service there. Back in my own domain for the evening, I found -my offices in demand in attendance upon the billiard and pool tables.</p> - -<p>By eleven o'clock the house was still, and I was at liberty to go to -bed. Among the furniture in the office was an alarm-clock. This I wound -up, and set for a quarter to five.</p> - -<p>The morning was splendidly bright. When I stepped out upon the veranda -the sun had already cleared the tops of the wooded Highlands, and, with -the radiance reflected from infinite rain-drops in the forests, there -rolled from their "gorgeous gloom" the "sweet after showers, ambrosial -air." In no direction was the outlook wide; but the air gleamed in the -sunlight with the crystal clearness which gives its peculiar quality -to our autumn, and which so early as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> August can be had only at -considerable altitudes.</p> - -<p>But the scrubbing awaited me, and was a task of much uncertainty. In -the kitchen I filled my buckets with water—cold water, I am sorry to -say. I threw wide open the doors and windows, and first sprinkled the -floors, as I had seen shopkeepers do, and then swept them thoroughly. I -tried to apply the water by means of a mop with a long wooden handle; -but failing completely in that, I detached the handle, and getting -down on my knees, I went carefully over the surface with the mop in -hand. Frequently I changed the water, and when the scrubbing was done I -looked the damp floors over with immense satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Until I was called to breakfast I spent the time in sweeping the -verandas and clearing from the walks the twigs and dead leaves with -which they were strewn after the rain. In no way was I prepared for -the alarming surprise which was in store for me. When I returned to -the office I stood aghast at the sight of the newly scrubbed floors. -They were dry now, and were covered with fantastic designs. Every final -movement of the mop was distinctly traceable in streaks of unmistakable -dirt. And there was the proprietor at work at his desk, and he faintly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> -noticed me as I entered. I stood expecting my discharge, with what -fortitude I could summon, but receiving no further attention from my -employer, I hurried back to the work on the walks and drives. During -the dinner-hour I brought a broom to bear upon the coiling traceries on -the floor, and succeeded in softening their bolder outlines.</p> - -<p>But scrubbing proved a peculiarly difficult art. On the second morning -I did all that I had done before, and then got buckets of clean hot -water and a fresh mop; and on hands and knees I went over the floors, -wiping them up with scrupulous care. The result was no better, once -dry, and the designs in daubs of dirt were as fantastic as ever. On -the third morning I tried still a new plan, but only with the result -of effecting a change in the designs. I was learning to scrub by an -empirical process, and the fourth venture approached success. Hot -water and soap, and a scrub-brush vigorously applied, and then a final -swabbing, left the floors comparatively clean, and free from the -persistent mop-stains.</p> - -<p>Only one more of my duties I found difficult of mastery. Like scrubbing -the floors, washing the windows was full of surprises. From one of -the house-maids I learned that clean, hot,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> soapy water was the prime -necessity. I was delighted with the first result, for after the washing -within and without, I had visions of the glass in a high state of clean -transparency. But the sun had absorbed the water, and left stains -of tenacious soap, when I came to the polishing, and after hours of -labor I almost despaired of ever bringing the panes to a reasonably -untarnished condition.</p> - -<p>The work has varied so little in detail that the history of a single -day is an epitome of the three weeks' service:</p> - -<p>I am up at a little before five in the morning. The floors of the -office and billiard-room are my first concern; and by the time these -are scrubbed it is six o'clock. The <i>chef</i> early noticed my willingness -to lend a hand in the kitchen, and he rewards me with a liberal supply -of hot water every morning, and a cup of coffee and a slice of bread at -six o'clock when he takes his own. Fortified in this way, I sweep the -verandas and walks, and rake the drives and lawns until breakfast.</p> - -<p>There is a curious, horizontal, social cleavage among the "help." -I belong to the lower stratum. I first noticed the distinction at -our meals. The negro head-waiter, and the pastry-cook, and the -head-gardener, and the company<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> of Irish maids, who do double duty -as waitresses and house-maids, take their meals in the dining-room -after the guests are served. The remnants of these two servings are -then heaped upon a table in a long, low, dimly lighted room which -intervenes between the kitchen and dining-room, and there we of the -lowest class help ourselves. Our coterie consists of an English maid, a -recent arrival from Liverpool, who serves as a dishwasher, three negro -laundresses, two negro stable-boys and myself, with a varying element -in two or three hired men, who drop in irregularly from the region of -the barns.</p> - -<p>Martha, the English maid, is chiefly in charge here, and she bravely -tries to serve, and to bring some order out of the chaos; but the task -is beyond her. We take places as we find them vacant, and each helps -himself from what remains to be eaten of the fragments of the meal just -ended. There is always a towering supply, but an abundance of a sort -that deadens your appetite, like the blow of a sand-bag.</p> - -<p>I reproached myself with fastidiousness at first, and imagined that to -the other servants, who shared it, the fare was entirely palatable; and -so I was surprised when, at a dinner early in my stay, one of the negro -laundresses seized<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> a plate heaped with scraps of meat, from which we -had all been helping ourselves, and carried it out with the indignant -remark that it was fit only for the dogs, adding, sententiously, as she -disappeared through the door: "We are not dogs <i>yet</i>; we are supposed -to be human." And back to her afternoon's work she went, although she -had eaten only a morsel.</p> - -<p>These meals were curiously solemn functions; scarcely a word was ever -spoken. Martha was "cumbered about much serving," and very heroically -she tried to impart some decent order to the meal, and a cheerfuller -tone to the company. I never knew the cause of the sullen unsociability -which possessed us, whether it was ill-humor born of the physical -weariness from which all the servants seemed constantly to suffer as a -result of the high pressure of work at the height of the season, or the -revolting fare which often sent us unrested and unfed from our meals.</p> - -<p>It is the vision of supper that will linger clearest in my memory. The -long, reeking room seen faintly in the yellow light of one begrimed -oil-lamp; the ceiling so low that I can easily reach it with my -upstretched hand, and dotted over with innumerable flies. The room -is a paradise for flies, which swarm most in our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> food that lies in -ill-assorted heaps down the middle of a rough wooden table. Here we sit -in chance order, black and white faces often alternating; the white -ones livid in their vivid contrast with the background of the room's -deep shadows, and the others ghastly visible in the general blackness -from which gleam the whites of eyes. Sometimes the two stable-boys find -seats together; and then they bid defiance to the general gloom, and -are soon bubbling over with musical laughter, that rolls responsive to -the least remark from either. It is interesting at such times to watch -Martha's face. The nervous energy which is always struggling there -against a look of utter weariness shines victorious now, in the light -of a new hope that a better cheer has come at last to her table.</p> - -<p>From breakfast I hurry back to the work of putting the grounds in -order. The walks I sweep every morning, and then rake the drives and -the lawns.</p> - -<p>It was at this work that I early found convincing proof of the -completeness of my social change. The lawns at certain hours are in -the possession of nurse-maids and infants. I have never calculated -the number of children in the hotel, but their ages apparently mark -every stage of advance from a few weeks to as many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> years. My liking -for children amounts to reverent devotion, and it gave me a shock, -from which I have not recovered, to find that, unshaven and uncouth in -workmen's clothes, I had become for them a bogey with whom their nurses -frighten them into obedience, warning them in excited tones with "Here -comes the man to take you away!"</p> - -<p>It was at this work, too, that I once incurred the avowed displeasure -of a guest. She was a beautiful Philistine, with a keenly penetrating -twang and turns of speech that bespoke the regions of Sixth Avenue and -Fourteenth Street. But she was remarkably handsome, tall and graceful, -and of high-bred bearing and of a thoroughly aristocratic type. It must -be confessed that whenever she was visible from my regions the section -of the grounds which commanded a view of her, and was yet fairly -beyond the sound of her voice, received assiduous attention from me; -for she was highly remunerative to look at. I was sweeping a section -of the walk immediately in front of the hotel. Unlike the work at -West Point, a porter's duties do not preclude mental effort. Absorbed -in thought and quite unconscious of my surroundings, I was suddenly -recalled to them and to my station in life by nasal accents raised -in strong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> reproof. I looked up in bewilderment, and saw confronting -me the beautiful Philistine, holding a little child by each hand. -Very straight she stood and bright-eyed, with her head thrown back, -and an exquisite flush over her face, and her beautiful lips curled -in anger, as she scolded me roundly for raising so much dust. I was -unfamiliar with the etiquette of the situation, so I held my peace, and -respectfully touched my cap, inwardly calling her the beauty that she -was as she stood there, and ardently hoping that she would scold me -more.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i094.jpg" id="i094.jpg"></a><img src="images/i094.jpg" alt="I HELD MY PEACE" /></div> - -<p class="bold">I HELD MY PEACE, AND RESPECTFULLY TOUCHED MY CAP, -<br />INWARDLY CALLING HER THE BEAUTY THAT SHE WAS.</p> - -<p>From the lawns I go to the kitchen, and offer my services to the -<i>chef</i>. Usually he has ready for me a basket of potatoes to peel. In a -little shed by the kitchen-door I sit and peel endlessly. The servants -are flocking in and out through the open door in the fetid air. The -heat is of the suffocating kind, in which the heavy air lies dead. -It is nearing the dinner-hour, and everyone must work with almost a -frenzy of effort. The high tension communicates itself to us all, and -we feel the nervous strain upon our tempers. The hundred and one petty -annoyances which cause the friction of household service prove too -much, and the tension bursts into a furious quarrel between the Irish -pastry-cook and the negro head-waiter. No one has time to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> heed them, -but his storming oaths and her plaintive, whining key, maintained with -provoking tenacity, whatever relief they bring to them, are far from -soothing to the rest of us.</p> - -<p>The maids are gathered from all parts of the hotel. Most of them have -been on duty since six o'clock, and after the morning's work there -now awaits them the rush of serving dinner. Want of sufficient sleep -and utter physical weariness have drawn deep lines in their faces. -Presently one of them, a slender young girl, sinks exhausted into a -seat, and we hear her notion of the <i>summum bonum</i>: "Oh, I wish I was -rich, and could swing all day in a hammock!" I follow the direction -of her eyes. Across a wide stretch of lawn and in the shade of some -clustering maples I see the gleam of a white dress rocking gently in a -hammock, and I catch the flutter of a fan and the light on an open page.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I am in the region of the kitchen during the dinner-hour -itself. As an experience, I fancy that it is not unlike that of being -behind the scenes in the course of the play. The kitchen and pantry -are ill-ventilated, and are hot to suffocation. About a counter-like -partition which separates the two rooms crowd the eager waitresses, -rehearsing in shrill tones their orders to the <i>chef</i> and his -assistant. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> is a babel of voices striving to be heard, and a -ceaseless clatter of dishes, and a hurrying to and fro. The <i>chef</i> is -not a bad fellow, but his temper is rarely proof against the harassing -annoyances incident upon serving a dinner, and he loses it in a torrent -of oaths. The volume of noise increases until the height of dinner is -reached and passed, and then it subsides, quite like a thunder-storm.</p> - -<p>The afternoon's work keeps me, for the most part, in my own -regions. The lamps must first be cleaned and filled, and then the -billiard-tables brushed for the evening play, and there may remain -unfinished work on the grounds, which claims me until it is time to -sweep the verandas again.</p> - -<p>When I am out of the office I must be careful that the doors and the -windows are open, and my ears attentive to the bell; for I am porter -and bell-boy in one.</p> - -<p>A bell-boy is sometimes at a disadvantage. He is not supposed to -explain, and circumstances may wrong him.</p> - -<p>The bell rings. I run to the indicator, and then climb to the door that -bears the corresponding number. A lady asks for a pitcher of ice-water. -Unluckily the ice-chest is locked, and the key, I learn, is in the -keeping of the head-waiter. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>After hasty search, I find that official -seated on a rock in the shade behind the barn, conversing with some of -the hands. He tells me that there is no ice in the chest, and advises -my going to the ice-house. I do so with all possible speed, and am -fortunate enough to find a piece of loose ice not far below the surface -of saw-dust. Back to the kitchen I run with it, wash it, and chop it -into fragments. But all this has taken time; it is very hot, and the -lady, no doubt, is very thirsty. As I hand her the pitcher of water, -her caustic acknowledgment expresses anything but gratitude.</p> - -<p>The verandas are no sooner swept for the afternoon than the stage -appears from the station. I must be in attendance to relieve the newly -arrived guests of their lighter luggage and, with the help of one of -the stable-boys, to carry their trunks to their rooms.</p> - -<p>It was in such services as these that I met with an insuperable -difficulty. Before I launched upon the enterprise of earning my living -by manual labor I settled it with myself that I would shrink from no -honest work, however menial, that might fall within the range of my -experiment. I confess that, in my present avocation, when it came -to the necessity of cleaning the cuspidors used by a tobacco-eating -gentry, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> task was accomplished only after hard setting of teeth, -and much involuntary contraction of muscles. But I hasten to let -fall a veil already too widely drawn from the hidden rites of a -porter's service. The difficulty in point was of another kind, and -had to do with tips. I was not unprepared for the emergency, for the -proprietor had hinted, in our first conversation, with every mark of -embarrassment, and with a tone of apology for the eight dollars a -month, that that amount was sure to be supplemented by gratuities. -It might have been different under other circumstances; but when I -had seen the guests and noted the unmistakable marks of residence in -cheap flats and low-rent suburban cottages, and realized the careful -husbanding of funds and the close calculation which make a summer -outing possible to them, their fees were some degrees beyond the -possible to me.</p> - -<p>In the case of the luggage, it was easy to bow acknowledgment and to -decline in favor of Sam, the stable-boy, who, beaming with delight, -stood ready to receive gifts to any amount, and who loved me warmly. -But when I was alone with some guest in the act of a personal service, -the situation created by a proffered fee proved embarrassing to us -both, and was not to be relieved by bows and expressions of sincere -appreciation. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> - -<p>The evening's duties are usually the lighting of the lamps at -nightfall, and assorting the mail that comes in after supper, and -attending the billiard and pool tables, and answering the bell-calls. -Saturday afternoons and evenings are varied with industrious -preparations for extra guests. This makes added demands upon us all, -and the servants dread Sunday as bringing always the severest strain of -the week. My own share of extra work is confined to Saturday afternoon -and evening, when I put up cots, and carry bed-linen and blankets -about, under the orders of the house-keeper, usually until midnight. -And when I go to sleep at last it is on the hay in the barn, for my -room is swept and garnished on Saturday and given up to a guest. It is -no hardship to sleep on the hay, but, through knowledge gained from -the scale of prices posted in the office, I can but understand what an -admirable business arrangement it is for the proprietor to so utilize -my room over Sunday. The added revenue which is thus yielded during my -stay amounts to fifteen dollars, and as the total sum of my wages for -the three weeks is five dollars and sixty-seven cents, the net returns -to the proprietor in service and profit speak well for his management.</p> - -<p>But there is other evidence of good <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>management, and in a quarter that -appeals to me more. His treatment of the "help" is so uniformly fair. -I do not like him; but, so far as I know, I am alone in my dislike -among all the servants of the house; and I cannot fail to see that a -feeling of personal loyalty is behind much of the patient, enduring -service to which I have been witness. Only once was there an approach -to a collision between us, and certainly I emerged from that in rather -a ridiculous light.</p> - -<p>It was but two or three evenings ago. Usually I have been able to -eat at our table enough at least to deaden appetite, but on that -evening I could eat nothing. As I passed through the pastry-kitchen -on my way back to the office I saw a few pieces of corn-bread which -were apparently to be thrown away. I asked the cook for some, and she -readily told me to help myself. On a flagging near the kitchen-door -I sat down to eat the bread, and the proprietor must have seen me -there in the dim light. I had not finished when the negro head-waiter -came upon me in much excitement. I belong to a lower order of service -than he, but he treats me civilly, and there was nothing more than -nervousness in his manner now.</p> - -<p>"You mustn't get cheese from the pantry without leave," he was saying -in high agitation. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> - -<p>I thought that he had gone mad, but he presently made clear that -the proprietor had come to him with the complaint that I was eating -cheese, which is kept in the pantry, and is not intended for the lower -servants. The supper-table had upset me, and the corn-bread which -caused the present trouble had been cold comfort. I was furiously angry -now, hot and aglow with a passion of rage which at that moment was a -splendid sensation. With great civility I thanked the head-waiter, and -explained the mistake, and showed him a fragment of bread still in my -hand, and then asked where I should find the proprietor. He had gone to -the office, and I followed him there, scarcely conscious of touching -the ground. It was close upon the mail-hour, and the office was crowded -with guests. Near the stove stood the proprietor, and he saw me as I -approached him. I was looking him full in the eyes when I told him, -without introductory remarks, that if he had any further criticisms to -offer upon my conduct he was at liberty to bring them directly to me. -If I had had any sense of humor left I should have laughed then at his -appearance, and have forestalled the ridiculous scene, in which, with -a look of distressed embarrassment, he edged toward the door, and I -followed, with my eyes on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> his, as I treated him to the most cynically -patronizing sentences which I could frame, while the guests looked on -in silence.</p> - -<p>Once in the quiet of the veranda, he explained to me that, since he -holds the head-waiter responsible in such matters, he had naturally -complained to him, and added that he was sorry if any mistake had been -made. I pointed out the mistake, and felt the fool that I was, and -spent the evening in a long walk over the hills, returning only in time -to lock up and put out the lights.</p> - -<p>As a basis of comparison I have now the two short terms of service at -West Point and here. I received employment at both places as almost -any laborer might have done, and I found in them both the means of -livelihood. But as a servant, I have found more than that. The man who -had been engaged as porter appeared about a week after my arrival. He -proved to be Martha's brother, and a newly landed immigrant. There was -no mistaking the last fact. His peaked countenance, with surviving -traces of ruddy color; his queer pot-hat, that rested on his ears; his -bright woollen tippet, defying the heat; his baggy suit, which had -doubtless served for day and night through all the voyage; his heavy -boots—all proclaimed him the raw <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>material of a new citizen. Nor -could there be a doubt of his kinship with Martha. She stood with me -awaiting the stage, directing eager glances down the carriage-drive -and excitedly asking questions about its coming. She was the first to -see it, and to recognize her brother on the seat with Sam, and she -fluttered about in the unconcealed delight of affection, perfectly -unconscious of everyone, until her arms were about her brother's neck, -and she was leading him away to the kitchen.</p> - -<p>Nothing was said to me about leaving; Martha's brother became her -assistant as a dishwasher, and learned to lend a generally useful hand -in the kitchen.</p> - -<p>And so I had fairly won my place, and had open before me a way of -promotion. Experience alone could disclose the value of the opening; -but the "—— House" is a winter as well as a summer resort, and -a porter's services are therefore in demand through the year. If -efficient, intelligent labor could not eventually win higher and more -responsible position in such an enterprise, and possibly gain, at last, -an interest in the business, the case is surely exceptional.</p> - -<p>It is the change in external conditions and its bearing upon me as a -human worker which have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> most impressed me, in contrast with my first -experience.</p> - -<p>I worked for nine hours and a quarter at West Point, and had, at the -end of the day's labor, if the weather had been good, eighty-five cents -above actual living expenses. Here I have usually worked from five -o'clock in the morning until eleven at night, at all manner of menial -drudgery, and have gone to bed in the comfortable assurance that, in -addition to food and shelter, I have earned twenty-six cents and a -fraction. And yet, as a matter of choice, purely with reference to the -conditions under which the work is done, I should infinitely prefer a -week of my present duties to a single day at such labor as that at West -Point.</p> - -<p>The work here is specific, and it is mine, to be done as I best can. -Responsibility and initiative and personal pride enter here, and render -the eighteen hours of this work incomparably shorter than the nine -hours of my last. It is true that it partakes of the character of much -household service, in that it is ever doing and is never done; but -there is a feeling of accomplishment in the fact of getting my quarters -clean and the grounds in order, and in keeping them so, although it be -at the cost of labor always repeated and never ended. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> - -<p>Perhaps it is because I am still haunted by the thought of the cruel -bondage of unskilled labor, under which men exhaust their powers of -body and mind and soul at work that, in the very conditions of its -doing, seems to harden them into slaves, instead of strengthening them -into men, that I fail to feel keenly the want of time that I can call -my own. I have an independence of vastly better sort in having work -which I can call my own, and which I can do with some human pleasure -and interest and profit in its performance, however hard it may be.</p> - -<p>Slender as is my acquaintance with either, I yet see, with perfect -certainty, that the standard of character is higher in this company -of servants than among the gang of unskilled laborers. Other causes -may have a share in this result, but the efficient cause is clear -in the better moral atmosphere in which the work is done. I do not -know how conscious is the feeling of unity of interest with their -employer, or of copartnery with one another in labor, or of personal -responsibility; but all these motives must play a part in effecting the -successful accomplishment of the house-work, with its intricacies and -interdependencies which render constant personal oversight impossible. -Of course the proprietor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> has much trouble with the "help," and there -are frequent changes among them; but the body of the company remains -the same, and some of the servants have been here for several seasons.</p> - -<p>Certainly one is obliged to look elsewhere than to wages for a cause -of better work as showing a finer moral fibre, if I may judge from my -twenty-six cents a day. I dare say that mine is the minimum wage. The -<i>chef</i> told me that he gets sixty dollars a month, and I fancy that his -is the maximum sum. It is purely a guess, but I venture it, that the -average among us would not exceed five dollars a week. Five dollars a -week above the necessaries of life will buy much among the commonest -proletariat. Under certain conditions that, or even a less sum, might -buy industrious and almost continuous effort for fourteen or eighteen -hours a day, but not, I fancy, in the present economic condition of -household servants in this country. There must be other causes to -account for that.</p> - -<p>The want of time which is at one's own command is the commonest -objection urged against domestic service as accounting for the ready -choice of harder work with far less of creature comfort, but with -definite limits and entire disposing of the rest of one's day. Stronger -than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> this, I fancy, as an objection, is a social disability which -attaches to service, and under the sway of which a house-maid has not -the prospect of so good a marriage, socially considered, as a factory -girl, who earns a scanty living, but is subject to no one's command -outside of the factory gates.</p> - -<p>The strength of social conventions is a force to be reckoned with among -the working classes. It may seem that below the standing of folk gentle -by birth and breeding there are no social standards or social barriers -of serious strength. I begin to suspect that distinctions are as -clearly made on one side of that line as the other. Very certain I am -that the upper servants here and the nurses and house-maids are removed -from us of the clothes-washing and dish-washing and floor-scrubbing -fraternity by a very considerable social gulf.</p> - -<p>A course of eighteen hours of continuous daily duty soon gives one -a surprising relish for the pleasure of doing as you please. I know -now something of the delight of a "Sunday off." I got my first leave -of absence one afternoon when I was allowed to go to the village of -Central Valley to have my boots mended. Not since I was a small boy at -boarding-school have I felt the same vivid pleasure in going freely -forth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> knowing that, for the time, I was my own master; and when I -returned to the hotel, it was very much with the school-boy's feeling -of passing again under the yoke.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IV</span> <span class="smaller">A HIRED MAN AT AN ASYLUM</span></h2> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Wilkesbarre, Pennsylvania</span>,<br /> -Saturday, September 19, 1891.</p> - -<p>I have a wide sweep of country to cover from the "—— House" in -the Highlands above the Hudson, where I served as a porter, and -received with my wages a reference to the effect that my work was done -"faithfully and well," to the coal regions of Pennsylvania in the -valley of the Susquehanna.</p> - -<p>My spirits rise at every recollection of the journey. For days I walked -through the crisp autumn air, breathing its tingling freshness, and -barely sensible of fatigue.</p> - -<p>The way led me over the rich farm-lands of Orange County, and across -the Delaware, and through the lonely wilderness of the Pennsylvania -border, until I emerged upon the hills above the Susquehanna, and -caught sight of the splendid valley, with its native beauty hideously -marred by the blackened trails of forest fires<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> and the monstrous heaps -of culm that mark the mouth of the coal-pits.</p> - -<p>So far work has not failed me, unless I mark as an exception the single -case when I began a search, and brought it abruptly to an end by -descending suddenly upon a camping party of friends.</p> - -<p>Quietly and mysteriously, I fancy, to the other servants, I appeared -among them at the "—— House," and with as little notice I tried to -steal away. Instead of going to the kitchen at five o'clock on that -Wednesday morning for scrubbing-water, I took to the road with my pack, -and left behind me the "—— House" awaking to life in the servants' -quarters.</p> - -<p>I had been a gang-laborer and a hotel porter, and now I wondered what -my next rôle was to be. But the feeling was simply a genial curiosity, -and was free from the timid shrinking with which I set out from the -minister's house in Wilton, and my lodgings at Highland Falls. Then -it was under the spur of self-compulsion that I launched afresh upon -this fortuitous life. With strong animal instinct I had clung to any -haven where shelter and food were secure. Now I warmly welcomed a freer -courage born of experience. Not too sure of newly gained powers, but -like a boy learning to swim, I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>fancied that I felt the strength of -some confidence in the novel element. Light-hearted in spite of my -pack, which gained weight with every step, I walked briskly along the -country roads, charmed with everything I saw, and feeling sure that my -wages would see me through to another job. Was it a real acquisition, -and had I learned to catch the strange pleasure of this fugitive life? -or did the difference lie in the bracing cool of the morning, and -the beauty of the open country, and the sense of freedom after long -restraint, and, most subtly of all, in that little, hoarded balance in -my purse?</p> - -<p>It was nightfall when I entered Middletown, and too late to look for -work. With my eye upon the rows of cottages which line the street by -which I entered the town, I soon found a boarding-house for workmen. -A bed could be had for twenty cents. At a bakery near by I got a loaf -of bread and a quart of milk for a dime, and was thus supplied with a -supper and breakfast. Twelve hours of unbroken sleep fell to me that -night, and in the cool of a threatening morning I set out to find work. -The scaffolding about a brick building in process of erection drew -my attention, and I applied for a job as a hod-carrier, but found no -demand there for further unskilled labor. The boss in charge <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>refused -me with some show of petulance, as though annoyed by repeated appeals. -He was not more cheerful, but was politely communicative enough when I -asked after the likelihood of my finding work in the town. "There is -no business doing," he said. "The bottom has fallen out of this place. -There's two men looking for every job here, and my advice to you is to -go somewhere else."</p> - -<p>At the head of the street I came upon the foundation work of another -building, which, I learned, was to be an armory. Here the boss -instantly offered me a job, if I could lay brick or do the work of a -mason, but of unskilled labor he said that he had an abundant supply. -"But yonder," he added, "is the Asylum, and much work is in progress on -the grounds, and there, surely, is your best chance of employment."</p> - -<p>The Asylum was a State Homœopathic Institution for the Insane. I could -see the large brick buildings on the highest area of spacious grounds, -which spread away in easy undulations, with their natural beauty -heightened by the tasteful work of a landscape gardener.</p> - -<p>Near the entrance to the grounds I came upon a large force of laborers -digging a ditch for a water-main. The boss refused me a place, but -not without evident regret at the necessity, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> he was at pains to -explain to me that, already on that morning, he had been obliged to -turn away half a dozen men.</p> - -<p>It was with no great expectation of success at finding work there -that I began walking somewhat aimlessly through the Asylum grounds. -The first person whom I met was an old Irish gardener. He painfully -stood erect as I questioned him as to whom I should apply for a job, -and supported himself with one hand on my shoulder, while he told me -of the medical superintendent, and the overseer, and the foreman, who -are in charge of various departments of the work. Presently, his face -brightened with excitement as he pointed to a large man who was walking -toward one of the buildings, and he pushed me in his direction with -an eager injunction to apply to him, for he was the overseer of the -grounds.</p> - -<p>The overseer listened to my request and read in silence my reference -from the "—— House," and looked me over for a moment, and then -abruptly ordered me to report at seven o'clock on the next morning, -adding, as he disappeared within the building, that he was paying his -men a dollar and a half a day.</p> - -<p>The old Irish gardener showed the heartiest pleasure at my success, and -directed me to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> boarding-house near the Asylum grounds, where I was -soon settled, and where at noon I ate a memorable dinner, the first -square meal for thirty-six hours, and the first one which had about it -the elements of decent comfort since I left Mrs. Flaherty's table.</p> - -<p>At seven o'clock on the next morning I was one of a gang of twenty -laborers who were digging a sewer-ditch. The ditch had passed the -farther edge of a meadow, and must cut its way through the field to -the Asylum buildings, two hundred yards beyond. Its course was marked -by a straight cut through the sod which was to furnish us a guide. -Some of the men took their former places in unfinished portions of the -work, and the rest of us fell apart, leaving intervals of about three -yards from man to man. With the cut as a guide, and with the single -instruction to keep the ditch two feet wide, we began to wield our -picks and shovels. A thick, unmoving fog lay damp upon the meadow, -already saturated with dew. The sun-rays, gathering penetrating power -as they pierced the fog, were soon producing the effect of prickly -heat. This atmosphere, surcharged with moisture and lifeless in its -sluggish weight, yet quick with stinging heat, was a medium in which -the actual work done was out of proportion to its cost in potential -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>energy. In the forceful Irishism of one of the laborers: "It was a -muggy morning, and a man must do his work twice over to get it done."</p> - -<p>By dint of strenuous industry and careful imitation of the methods -of the other men, I managed to keep pace with them. I saw from the -first that the work would be hard; and in point of severity it proved -all that I expected, and more. To ply a pick and urge a shovel for -five continuous hours calls for endurance. Down sweeps your pick with -a mighty stroke upon what appears yielding, presentable earth, only -to come into contact with a rock concealed just below the surface, -a contact which sends a violent jar through all your frame, causing -vibrations which end in the sensation of an electric shock at your -finger-tips. A few repetitions of this experience are distinctly -disheartening in effect. Besides, the sun has cleared the fog, and is -shining full upon us through the still air. The trench is well below -the surface, now, and we work with the sun beating on our aching backs, -and our heads buried in the ditch, where we breathed the hot air heavy -with the smell of fresh soil, and the sweat drips from our faces upon -the damp clay.</p> - -<p>By nine o'clock what strength and courage I have left seem oozing from -every pore. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> demoralization is complete, and I know that only "the -shame of open shame" holds me to my work. I dig mechanically on through -another sluggish hour of torment; and then I come to, and find myself -breathing deeply, with long regular breaths, in the miracle of "second -wind," with fresh energy flowing like a stream of new life through my -body.</p> - -<p>Through all the working hours of the day the foreman sat upon a pile -of tools silently watching us at the job. Now and then he politely -urged that the ditch be kept not less than two feet wide, and nothing -could have been further from his manner and speech than any approach to -abusing the men. It was his evident purpose to treat us well, but the -act of his oversight, under the conditions of our employment, involved -a practical wasting of his day, and cast upon us the suspicion of -dishonesty.</p> - -<p>On the next morning, which was Saturday, the foreman sent me down the -ditch, where the pipe was already laid, and ordered me, with two other -men, to fill in the earth. Like a line of earthworks lay the "stubborn -glebe" above the trench. The work of shovelling it back into place -seemed easy at first, and was easy, as compared with the digging; but -the wet, cohesive clay that lined the ditch's brink yielded only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> to -the pressure of a compulsion very persistently applied. We quit on that -evening at five o'clock, with a full day's pay for nine hours' work.</p> - -<p>The foreman met me on Monday morning with an order for yet another -change. At the barn I should find "Hunt," he said, and I was to report -to him as his "help." Hunt proved to be a good-looking, taciturn -teamster, who had just hitched his horses to his "truck," and he -told me to get aboard. The "truck" was a heavy four-wheeled vehicle -without a box, but with, instead, a stout platform suspended from the -axle-trees, and resting but a few inches from the ground. Standing upon -this we drove all day from point to point about the grounds, attending -to manifold needs.</p> - -<p>We had first to cart the milk-cans from the dairy to the kitchen. This -errand took us to the rear of the Asylum buildings, where the entries -open upon a series of quadrangular courts. Then from entry to entry we -drove, gathering up great bags of soiled clothes, which lay in heaps -about the doors, and we carted these to the laundry. Then back to the -kitchen we went, and took on a load of huge cans filled with swill, and -transferred them to a large pig-sty at the edge of the wood, below the -meadow, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> there emptied their contents into hogsheads, from which, -at stated hours, the swill is baled out to the loud-squealing herd -within. Again we made the round of the entries, this time to gather up -the waste barrels which stood full of ashes, and the results of the -morning's sweeping; and having emptied these, we replaced them for a -fresh supply. Then we drove to the garden, and carted from that quarter -to the kitchen several loads of vegetables.</p> - -<p>The afternoon was consumed in supplying the demand for ice. Embedded in -a mass of hay in the ice-house, the ice must first be uncovered, and -the cakes, frozen together, must be pried apart with a crowbar and then -dragged over the melting surface to the door, and finally loaded upon -the truck.</p> - -<p>We first carted it to the barn-yard, where we washed it by playing -water over it with a hose, and then to the kitchen wing, where we -chopped it into smaller pieces and threw these into openings which -communicated with the large refrigerators inside. Again and again was -this process repeated, until an adequate supply had been furnished, and -then there remained before six o'clock time enough to cart to the pigs -their evening meal from the kitchen.</p> - -<p>With slight changes in detail, this remained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> the order of our work -through the few days of my stay. I held the job long enough to find -myself ensconced at the Asylum, and then I told the foreman that I -wished to go. He looked at me in some surprise, and began to argue -the point. "You'd better stay by your job," he said. "It is not the -best work, but we'll find better for you before long." I thanked him -heartily, and told him I was interested to learn that, but that I felt -obliged to go. He shook hands with me, and cordially wished me luck, -and told me to apply to him for work if I happened again in those -parts, and added that I could get my wages by calling at the office on -the next afternoon, which was the regular pay-day.</p> - -<p>A free day was highly useful now, for my clothes and boots were -seriously in need of repair. The pack contained the means of much -mending, and by dinner-time my coat and trousers were patched, and my -stockings were stoutly darned. But the boots were beyond me. Already -they had cost me dear, for a dollar, the earnings of four days as a -porter, had gone for a pair of new soles, and now another outlay, -enormous in its relation to my means, was an imperative necessity.</p> - -<p>I had made an appointment with a cobbler for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> an early hour in the -afternoon, precisely as one would with a dentist; for while he was at -work on my only pair of boots, I had to sit by in my stocking feet. -Secretly I welcomed the necessity, in spite of its calamitous cost. -I could take a book with me, and read with a clear conscience. The -cobbler was smoking his after-dinner cigar when I entered his shop. -He was little inclined to talk; and when he had finished his smoke he -picked up a boot, and bent over it with an air of absorption. I was -soon lost in my book.</p> - -<p>The work was nearly done when some movement of his drew my attention to -the cobbler. I had been struck by his appearance, and now my interest -deepened. Away from his bench it would not have occurred to one to -assign him to that calling. He was an old man, whose muscular figure -had acquired a stoop at the shoulders like that of some seasoned -scholar. His features were clean-cut and strong. His blue eyes had a -look of much shrewdness and force. There were deep lines about his -mouth and in his forehead, which spoke of masterful conflict in life. -Meeting him in the dress of a gentleman, you would have said that he -was a public man of some distinction, and with close acquaintance with -affairs. In reality, he had sat for fifty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> years upon that bench. -He was growing communicative now; and from his personal history I -tried to divert him to his views of life, thinking that I must have -found a philosopher in a man whose opportunities for reflection had -been so great. But his talk was flowing freely, and would take its -own course, careless of my promptings. I settled myself to listen, -and my interested attention seemed to fire him with new zest. From -personal narrative it was an easy step to events of our national -history, and he warmed to these under the inspiration of the life -of some great man connected with each. General Scott was his first -hero; and touching upon details of his history, which were wholly -unknown to me, he pictured the inborn, warlike spirit of the man with -amazing appreciation, and finally quoted the judgment of the Duke of -Wellington, who, he said, had declared of Scott that, "as a general, -he stood without a superior." Here he paused for a moment to explain -that the Duke of Wellington was a personage of exceptional military -experience, whose judgments in such matters were entitled to the -highest respect.</p> - -<p>The Civil War and Mr. Lincoln as the chief figure of those troublous -times next inspired him. It was with no mean insight into the issues -involved that he glowed with the thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> of a constitutional question -grown to sharp national conflict, and settled at infinite cost, -and transmitted as a most sacred trust, to be guarded with eternal -vigilance. But the climax was reached when he turned back on his -course, and began afresh, with the Father of his Country as his theme. -The incident of the cherry-tree was repeated with sublime faith, and -with highly dramatic effect. Encouraged by his success and my absorbed -attention, he next recounted the events of that fateful June morning -when the allied American and British forces were nearing Fort Duquesne. -With keenest appreciation of the fatal irony of it, he repeated again -and again his own version of the reply made to the warning of young -Washington by General Braddock: "You young buckskin! you teach a -British officer how to fight?"</p> - -<p>A chivalric spirit led him now to speak of "Lady Washington." This -moved him most of all, and when he declared that he would repeat for me -some lines composed by her, which he had learned by heart as a boy, his -emotions were almost beyond control. His job was finished now, and he -drew himself up, and made a strong effort to modulate his voice, which -was trembling with feeling. The lines had an evident magic for him, and -he repeated them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> with great throbs of emotion, while his eyes grew dim:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>Saw ye my hero?</div> -<div>Saw ye my hero?</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>I saw not your hero;</div> -<div>But I'm told he's in the van,</div> -<div>When the battle just began,</div> -<div>And he stays to take care of his men.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<div>Oh ye gods! I give you my charge</div> -<div>To protect my hero, George,</div> -<div>And return him safe home to my arms.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Then, bending toward me, he placed a trembling hand on my knee; and -looking dimly into my eyes, he said, in husky tones: "And they did, -didn't they?" I assented earnestly, charmed by his sincerity and -enthusiasm, only hopeful that there was some mistake in the unexpected -glimpse of Lady Washington in the character of a poet, and like my -friend struggling with feeling that I found it hard to suppress, -and which expressed, would have been sadly out of harmony with the -scriptural injunction to "weep with them that weep."</p> - -<p>There was a charm in the old cobbler's harangue, which I felt for long. -Even his views of life seemed to appear in these crude enthusiasms upon -general themes. There was a note of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>optimism which one could not fail -to catch, and to respect in a man who, for fifty years, had honestly -earned his living on a cobbler's bench. His sense of proprietorship -in his country, and of natural right to high personal pride in her -history, conveyed themselves to you as strong convictions, and you -understood something of the power which dwells in a people who feel -thus toward their country, and who share in her control.</p> - -<p>An hour later I was at the Asylum on the errand of getting my pay. I -had anticipated the appointed time by a few minutes, and was the first -of the workmen in the office. The clerk was in his place, however; and -my appearance, hat in hand, furnished him with the signal for drawing -from his desk the receipt-forms, upon which the men acknowledge the -payments by their signatures. In the bustle of the business just -beginning, the clerk turned upon me and asked, somewhat brusquely, if -I could write my name, or whether he should write it for me, and I -affix my mark. So unexpected was the question, that I was conscious at -first of some bewilderment, and then of a rising resentment against the -fact that such a question should be put to an American workman. I said -that I had acquired the habit of signing my own name when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> necessary; -but I might have spared myself that folly, for the clerk hastened to -explain with the kindest consideration that, of all the laborers whom -he habitually pays off, scarcely half can write; "although," he added, -with an admirable touch of fairness, "a very small proportion of the -illiterate are native-born Americans." I am afraid that my resentment -had its source in a grotesquely foolish feeling. I have been mistaken -for a drunkard, and a detective, and a disreputable double of myself, -and have been made a bogey of to frighten children into obedience -withal, but not once, so far as I know, have I been taken for a -gentleman. And if the truth must be told, I fear that the very success -of my disguise is somewhat chagrinning at times.</p> - -<p>There was no wrench on the next morning in parting with the family -with whom I boarded, unless my landlady shared my regret at leaving. -She was a meek little woman who slaved heroically at household work to -support her daughter, who studied stenography and typewriting, and her -idle husband, who led the life of a professional invalid. He had tried -upon me highly colored tales of his career as a soldier, and of what -he would have done in life but for his ill-health, tales which I soon -learned to interrupt with small services to his wife, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> gave me -up as hopelessly unsympathetic. A baseball game on the Asylum grounds -attracted a large crowd one afternoon; and as Hunt and I drove past on -an errand, I caught sight of the ex-soldier, who, at his home, was too -great a sufferer to contribute even a helping hand at the housework -toward his own support, but who here was dancing in vigor of delight -over a two-base hit.</p> - -<p>It was clear that a rate of progress which had carried me not even so -far as the border line of Pennsylvania, during nearly two months, would -require a considerable portion of a lifetime in which to accomplish the -three thousand miles before me. I resolved upon more energetic tramping -as a wiser policy for, at least, the immediate future.</p> - -<p>A rough plan was soon formed. I had saved nearly six dollars. It was -Wednesday morning. I would give three days to uninterrupted walk, and -by Friday evening I should reach Wilkesbarre. The whole of Saturday, -if so much time were needed, could then be given to a search for -employment; and the rest of Sunday would put me in trim to begin on -Monday morning the work which would provide in a few days for present -needs, and furnish a balance with which to begin the tramp once more. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> - -<p>At an early hour I was upon the high-road which leads to Port Jervis. -The day was a perfect type of the best season of our northern climate, -cloudless but for a fleecy embankment behind the purple hills to the -north, flooded with a glorious light touched with grateful warmth, and -which revealed with articulate distinctness every visible object in the -crystal-clear air—an air so pure and cool that it spurred you to your -quickest step, and sent bounding through you a glad delight in breath -and life.</p> - -<p>In all the landscape was the richness of color and the vividness of -a transfigured world. An early frost had touched the foliage; the -leaves of the hickory-trees and elms were rustling crisply at their -tips, and the sumach deepened into a crimson that matched the color -of its clustered seeds, while the oaks and maples maintained the dark -luxuriance of their summer leafage, boastful of a hardihood which would -succumb only to the keener cold of the later autumn.</p> - -<p>Up hill and down dale my road led me, where substantial farm-houses, -and enormous barns, and fields of standing corn, and herds of cattle in -the pasture-lands, all indicated the necessaries and even the comforts -of life in rich abundance, and emphasized the wonder that from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> such -surroundings should come the recruits who ceaselessly throng our -crowded towns.</p> - -<p>A few miles farther on the whole topography of the country changed. -I had passed through the village of Otisville and was walking in the -direction of Huguenot when my way carried me to a hillside from which I -could see the long stretch of a valley, reaching far to the westward, -and lined on both sides, with almost artificial regularity, by ranges -of hills, which rose sharply from the plain below. Through a break at -the north the Delaware flows, and, crossing the plain-like valley, -disappears among the southern hills, while the valley itself, in almost -unbroken symmetry, reaches on to the west.</p> - -<p>At the foot of the northern range, and on the eastern bank of the -river, is the town of Port Jervis. Its outer streets are the light, -airy thoroughfares of the usual American town, faced by small wooden -cottages, each with its plot of ground devoted in front to a few square -yards of turf, and carefully economized behind the house for the -purpose of supporting fruit-trees and providing a vegetable garden.</p> - -<p>The great number of these individual homes, as indicating the manner of -life of multitudes of the working classes in provincial towns, seemed -to me to mark a conspicuous absence of crowded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> tenement living; and -on its positive side to indicate at least the possibility of wholesome -family life and of much home comfort. Certainly my experience at -Highland Falls and at Middletown confirms this impression. In each -of those cases the people with whom I stayed owned their home and -the plot of land about it, which contributed thriftily toward the -family support. The houses were ephemeral wooden cottages, done in the -degrading ugliness inspired by the Queen Anne revival, and furnished -in a taste even more florid, and they were not overclean. And yet they -were comfortable homes, in which we fared handsomely, eating meat three -times a day, and varieties of vegetables and admirable home-made bread, -and knew no stint of sugar or butter, and slept in good beds in not too -crowded rooms in an upper story.</p> - -<p>All about me here, and reaching down the long vistas of communicating -streets, were the same external conditions, until I entered the closely -built up "brick blocks" of the business quarter of the town. I could -but think how characteristic of our smaller cities is this separate -individual home-life of the wage-earning classes, and how increasingly -are the improved means of transportation rendering like surroundings -possible for the workmen of the larger towns. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<p>Having crossed the Delaware River, about four o'clock I began a walk -through a region no less beautiful than that through which I had -passed in the morning. My way lay in the valley, directly under the -steep hills that wall it in on the north. Their densely wooded sides -cast deep shadows obliquely across the road, and in this grateful -shade I walked on, listening to the songs of birds and the murmur of -mountain-streams, and the cooling sound of spray splashing from ledge -to ledge of moss-grown rocks.</p> - -<p>At sunset I entered the village of Milford, which nestles securely -at the foot of the mountains of Pike County, a beautiful village of -wide, well-shaded streets, where there was little to mar the elegant -simplicity of dignified country homes, untouched by harrowing attempts -at the fantastic.</p> - -<p>By eight o'clock I was fast asleep in a workmen's boarding-house, and -at sunrise on the next morning I was on the road which turns sharply -up the mountain-side. A dense mist lay upon the valley, but my way -soon led me up to the freer air, until, upon the summit of a ridge, I -reached the clear sunshine, and could see the emerging ranges of hills -to the east and south and the white mist resting motionless on the -valley below. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> - -<p>Up and up I climbed into higher altitudes. Each elevation appeared, as -I approached it, the topmost crest of the mountain, and yet I gained it -only to find another rough steep beyond.</p> - -<p>There could scarcely have been a sharper contrast with the journey of -the previous day. The graceful undulations of rich farm-lands and the -broad plain of the Huguenot flats, checkered with field and forest and -pasture, and traversed by well-kept roads, and dotted over with the -buildings of prosperous farms and thriving villages, had given place, -in the panorama of my journey, to rugged mountains, steep and densely -wooded, except where, on some less hopeless site at the very margin of -cultivation, a settler had cleared the land and begun a conflict with -the stony soil in an almost desperate struggle for a living. Here were -mountain-roads that went from bad to worse, until, before I had crossed -the range, my way degenerated into a narrow, rocky trail, overgrown -with weeds, and along which I walked for a stretch of six or eight -miles without passing a dwelling.</p> - -<p>That was in the afternoon. At a little before twelve o'clock I -had come to Shohola Falls. There, in a "hollow" on the bank of a -mountain-stream, stood a saw-mill, surrounded by piles of bleaching -boards and a few rough, unpainted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> cottages. Through the open door of -a shop I caught sight of an old carpenter bending over his bench. He -entered very readily into directions about the way and told me that I -had but to follow a direct road to Kimble, and from there there was no -difficulty in the way to Tafton, which, he said, was as far as I could -get that day. Then, with an eye on my pack, he asked pointedly what -I was peddling. The forgotten magazines recurred to me and I opened -my pack and handed him a copy. The frequent change of subject and the -variety of illustration fixed for a time his excited attention.</p> - -<p>Half a score of young children now crowded about the door, and edged -cautiously into the shop, fixing upon me eyes wide open with the hunger -of curiosity. They were all barefooted and ragged, and not one of them -was clean, and at a single glance you saw that, mountain-bred and young -as they were, there was no wholesome color in their faces, and that the -very beauty of childhood was already fading before a persistent diet -from the frying-pan.</p> - -<p>The old carpenter presently turned upon me with the air of one who was -master of the situation.</p> - -<p>"Would you like to sell some of them books around here?" he asked. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> - -<p>I told him that I should.</p> - -<p>"Well, you're a stranger here, ain't you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Then don't you try it. A young fellow done this place out of more'n -fifty dollars last spring, and we're kind o' careful of strangers now."</p> - -<p>I sat on the door-step to rest, and invited the children to look at the -pictures, which they did, hesitatingly at first, with timid advances, -in which curiosity struggled with their fear of the unfamiliar. But -they grew bolder as I invented stories to match the illustrations, -and presently they were all nestling about me in the ease of absorbed -attention. One little girl of four or five, who had eyed me at first -with an anxious look of alarm, now stood leaning over my shoulder -with an arm about my neck, and her soft brown hair, escaped from her -sun-bonnet, touching my face, while she looked down upon the pictures, -and I could feel her breath quickening as the story neared its climax.</p> - -<p>I pressed on presently, and the children ran by my side, asking for yet -one story more, and finally calling their good-byes and waving their -hands to me as I disappeared around a curve in the road.</p> - -<p>A few miles farther on I came to a lonely farm-house, where I knocked -in quest of a dinner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> The open door revealed a woman's face, so sad -and worn, so full of care and of weary years of slavish drudgery, -that quite instinctively I began to apologize, and to conceal my real -purpose in aimless inquiry about the way.</p> - -<p>"I do not know," she said; "but won't you come in? The boys will soon -be at home for dinner, and they can tell you."</p> - -<p>Her voice was soft and sweet, and her manner so reassuring that I -gladly followed her into the sitting-room, where she introduced me to -her daughter, a slender, dark young woman, who sat sewing by an open -window.</p> - -<p>I hastened to make myself known as a workman on my way to Wilkesbarre, -where I hoped to get employment, and I told them of my encounter with -the carpenter at the Falls. They smiled as though the flavor of his -humor was not lost to them, and they spoke of other characters at the -settlement quite as odd as he.</p> - -<p>Both women were dressed in the plainest calico, and without a touch of -ornament, and the house was poor; poor to the verge of poverty; but -the walls were free from chromoes and worsted mottoes, and showed, -instead, a few good engravings, and the rag-carpet on the floor blent -in accordant colors, and curtains hung neatly at the windows. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> - -<p>Dinner was waiting, and presently the mother said that we would delay -it no longer for the boys. We sat down at a table in a rough shed which -opened from the sitting-room. A spotless cloth covered the board, and -the service was simple and tasteful, and there was the uncommon luxury -of napkins. The dinner moved with unembarrassed ease. We talked of the -surrounding country, and its resemblance to other regions, and of the -political situation. The mother led the talk, and tactfully guarded it -from any approach to silence or to topics too intimate. Once, however, -she touched lightly upon a former home in a prosperous corner of -another State, and instantly I felt the hint of some family tragedy.</p> - -<p>And now her two sons came shuffling in, rough and ruddy from their -work, clean-cut, well-bred young fellows, far too young I thought to be -"hauling logs," and I could read an agony of anxiety in their mother's -face as she watched them wearily take their seat on the vacant bench by -the table. They had been left in the care of the work in the absence of -their father, who had gone some miles to a neighboring settlement, "on -business," their mother added, blushing deeply, while the boys looked -hard at their plates. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> - -<p>The afternoon's tramp lay through the wildest part of that wild -region. From Shohola Falls to Kimble the direct road is one which -leads straight across the mountain, and is almost unbroken, and seldom -used. In all its course I passed but two or three farms; and these -revealed a pitiful poverty, in the wretched hovels which did service -as farm-houses and barns, and, more plainly, if possible, in the -squalor of little children who gaped at me from among high weeds behind -tottering fences.</p> - -<p>On I went for miles, over a road so lonely that it recalled the -loneliness of the sea, and, like the sea, the sweep of heaving -mountains seemed unbroken in a boundless monotony. And then the -landscape had in it the beauty and the majesty of the sea, and the -whispering of the wind over vast fields of stunted pines and scrub oaks -answered to the wash of waves, and bore a fragrance and freshness to -match with ocean breezes.</p> - -<p>Late in the afternoon my way descended abruptly by a more frequented -road in the direction of Kimble. Presently I could see a railway and -a canal, and I felt a little, I fancied, as an explorer must upon -emerging, once more, into the region of the explored.</p> - -<p>I wished to know the distance and the way to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> Tafton, and so I inquired -of the first person whom I met. She was a milkmaid, and so picturesque -a figure, that I felt a pleasurable excitement in the chance of a -word with her. Her calico skirt was tucked up a little at one side. -Under one bare arm she carried a milking-stool, and a bucket in the -other hand. Her sun-bonnet had fallen from her head, and hung like a -scholar's hood on her back. The sunlight was playing in glory about her -face and in her abundant auburn hair.</p> - -<p>My excitement suddenly took another form; for, as I lifted my hat in -apologetic inquiry, there fell about me a shower of oak-leaves, which I -had placed in the crown for the sake of added coolness.</p> - -<p>The milkmaid had met me with a clear, frank look between the eyes; -but she shrank a little now, and could not resist a startled glance, -full of questioning, as to what further my hat might contain, and she -answered me more with the purpose, I fancy, of being quickly rid of a -wanderer of such doubtful mind, than of adding to his information.</p> - -<p>The walk from Kimble to Tafton, I presently found, could be shortened -by taking a path through the forest; and I was soon panting up the -hillside, grateful for the long twilight which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> promised to see me -safe, before the darkness, to my destination.</p> - -<p>On the way I fell in with a young quarryman, whose home was near -Tafton, and who willingly became my guide. He was only sixteen, but -already he had worked for four years at his trade. His gaunt, angular -body showed plainly the marks of arrested development, when the growth -of the boy had hardened prematurely into an almost deformed figure of a -confirmed laborer.</p> - -<p>He lunged clumsily beside me, and was inclined to be taciturn at first; -but he warmed presently to readier speech, and talked frankly of his -work and manner of life. At twelve he had been taken from school and -sent to the quarry to help his father support a growing family. And -then his days had settled into a ceaseless round of hard work, from -which there was no escape for him until he should be twenty-one, an age -which appeared to his perception at an almost infinite distance.</p> - -<p>His attitude to his present circumstances was not a resentful one. -He seemed to think it most natural that he should help in the family -support; or, rather, no other possibility seemed to occur to him. It -was soon apparent, too, that his chiefest hope and ambition, with -reference<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> to his ultimate freedom from that necessity, were centred -in a possible return to school advantages. He spoke of his efforts to -study after work hours, and of the hardness of such a course, and owned -to the fear of insurmountable difficulties in the future. His reticence -was gone now, and he was speaking with hearty freedom, and with his -eyes all alight with the dream of his life. I told him something of -the increased opportunities of education for men who must make their -own way, and of how many men I had known who had supported themselves -through college.</p> - -<p>We parted at the edge of the forest, where we reached his home, a frail -shell of a shanty, standing upon stumps of felled trees, and he was -welcomed by the sight of his mother, chopping wood at the roadside, and -a troop of ragged children playing about the open door.</p> - -<p>At nightfall, on the next evening, I entered Wilkesbarre, but I got so -far only by virtue of a long lift in a farmer's cart, which carried me, -by a stroke of great good fortune, over much the longest part of the -day's journey.</p> - -<p>So far my plan had been carried out. It was Friday evening, and I was -safe in Wilkesbarre, somewhat worn by the walk of rather over eighty -miles, and with an increased dislike for my <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>burdensome pack, but with -every prospect of being fit for work so soon as I should find it. My -success in that direction had been so uniform, that instead of sleeping -in the open, as I had done on the night before, I allowed myself the -luxury of a bed in a cheap boarding-house, and a supper and a breakfast -at its table, before beginning my search. Further good fortune awaited -me, for Saturday morning lent itself with cheerful brightness to the -enterprise. At an early hour I stepped out into a busy street of the -city, sore and stiff with walking, but high of hope, and not without a -certain elevation of spirit, which might have warned me of a fall.</p> - -<p>Work on the city sewers was being carried through the public square. -I found the contractor, and applied for work as a digger. Very -courteously he took the pains to explain to me that he was obliged to -keep on hand, and pay for full time, a force of men far larger than was -demanded, except by certain exigencies, and that he could not increase -their number. Not far from the square another gang of workmen were -laying the curbstones and repairing the street, but here I was again -refused. I lifted my eyes to the site of a stone building that was -nearing completion, and there, too, no added hands were needed. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> - -<p>By this time I had neared the post-office, and I found letters awaiting -me there which claimed the next half hour. But even more embarrassing, -as a check to further search, was a free reading-room, which now -invited me to files of New York newspapers, in which I knew that I -should find details of recent interesting political developments at -Rochester and Saratoga, not to mention possible fresh complications in -the more exciting game of politics abroad. I went in, and like Charles -Kingsley's young monk, Philemon, who, wandering one day farther than -ever before from the monastery in the desert, chanced upon the ruins -of an old Egyptian temple; and mindful of a warning against such -seduction, yet guiltily charmed by the rare beauty of the frescoes, -prayed aloud, "Lord, turn away mine eyes, lest they behold vanity," -but looked, nevertheless—I looked, too, and I read on until mounting -remorse robbed the reading of all pleasure and drove me to my task -again.</p> - -<p>But I had fallen once; and, by a sad fatality, scarcely had I renewed -the search, with weakened power of resistance, when I stumbled upon a -fiercer temptation in the form of a library, which announced in plain -letters its freedom to the public until the hour of nine in the evening.</p> - -<p>Forgetful of my character as a workman;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> miserably callous to the -claim of duty to find employment, if possible; and in any case, to -live honestly the life which I had assumed, I entered the wide-open, -hospitable doors, and was soon lost to other thought, and even to the -sense of shame, in the absorbing interest of favorite books.</p> - -<p>In the lonely tramp across the mountains of Pike County I walked -sometimes for miles with no opportunity of quenching a growing thirst, -when suddenly I came upon a mountain-spring that trickled from the -solid rock, and formed a little pool in its shade, where I threw myself -on the ground, and, with a glorious sense of relief, drank deeply of -its cold water. The analogy is a weak one, for the physical relief and -the momentary pleasure but faintly suggest the prolonged intellectual -delight, after two months of unslackened thirst.</p> - -<p>Here was an inexhaustible supply, and there were polite librarians who -responded cheerfully to your slightest wish; and, best of all, there -was an inner door which disclosed a reading-room, where perfect quiet -reigned, and comfortable chairs invited you to grateful ease, and -shelves on shelves of books were free to your eager hand.</p> - -<p>To pass from one writer to another, among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> the volumes that lay on the -table, lingering over long-loved passages, or dipping lightly here and -there, absorbing pleasure from the very touch of the book and the sight -of the well-printed page, held by the charm of some characteristic -phrase, and finally to sink into the folds of an easy-chair with -a store of books within ready reach—what delight can equal such -satisfaction of a craving sense?</p> - -<p>There through the livelong day I sit, and through the early evening, -until I am roused by the sound of slamming shutters which is the -janitor's signal for nine o'clock, the hour of closing for the night.</p> - -<p>Taking my hat and stick I walk out into the gas-lit street, and into -our modern world, with its artificialities and its social and labor -problems; and I remember that I am a proletaire out of a job, and that -with shameless neglect of duty I have been idling through priceless -hours. Crestfallen, I hurry to my boarding-house, longing, like any -conscious-stricken inebriate, to lose remorse in sleep.</p> - -<p>As I walk to my lodgings a certain fellow-feeling warms me with fresh -sympathy for my kind. I have met with my first reverse, not a serious -one, but still the search for work for the first time in my experience -has been fruitless through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> most of a morning. Instead of persevering -industriously, I yield weakly to the desire to forget my present lot, -and the duty it entails, in the intoxication that beckons to me from -free books. That happens to be my temptation, and I fall.</p> - -<p>Another workman of my class, in precisely my position, encounters, not -one chance temptation which he might escape by taking another street, -but at every corner open doors which invite him to the companionship of -other men, who will help him to forget his discouragements so long as -his savings last. And as we are both turned into the street at night, -in What do we differ as regards our moral strength? He yielded to his -temptation, and I to mine.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER V</span> <span class="smaller">A FARM HAND</span></h2> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Williamsport, Lycoming County, Pa.</span>,<br /> -Saturday, 3 October, 1891.<span class="s3"> </span></p> - -<p>From Wilkesbarre it was an easy day's march to the village of Pleasant -Hill, which lies in the way to Williamsport. The only notable incident -of the tramp was one which confirmed me in an early formed policy. I -have avoided railways, and have walked in preference along the country -roads, as affording better opportunities of intercourse with people. -But in going on that morning from Wilkesbarre to the ferry which -crossed the river to Plymouth, I took the advice of a gate-keeper at -a railway crossing and started down the track on a long trestle as a -short cut to the ferry. All went well until I was half way over, and -then two coal trains passed simultaneously in opposite directions, and -I hung by my hands from the framework at one side, while the engineer -and fireman on the locomotive nearest me laughed heartily at the figure -that I cut, with the side of each car grazing my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> pack, and my hold on -the railing growing visibly slacker.</p> - -<p>It was a little after nightfall when I reached the tavern at Pleasant -Hill. Of my wages I had fifty cents left. I questioned the proprietor -as to the demand for work in his community. He was quite encouraging. -Only that afternoon, he said, one of the best farmers of the -neighborhood had been inquiring in the village for a possible man, and -to the best of his knowledge he had not found one. I said that I should -apply at his farm in the morning, and then I broached the subject of -entertainment. We soon struck a bargain for a supper and breakfast, and -the privilege of a bed on the hay; but when, after supper, I asked to -be directed to the barn, the landlord silently led the way to a little -room upstairs, and there wished me good-night.</p> - -<p>In the early morning he pointed out to me the road to his neighbor's -farm, which I followed with ready success. I was penniless now, and -had only an uncertain chance of work. And then, if the farmer should -ask me, I should be obliged to own to inexperience, and the demand -for farm-hands I thought must be limited, at a date so far into the -autumn. But the morning was exquisite, and the buoyancy that it bred -was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> an easy match for misgivings, so that it was with a light heart -that I turned from the road into a lane which leads to the house of the -farmer, whom I shall call Mr. Hill.</p> - -<p>All about me were the marks of thrift. The fences stood straight and -stout, with an air of lasting security. On a rising ledge above the -lane was the farm-house, a small, unpainted wooden cottage, bleached to -the rich, deep brown of a well-colored meerschaum pipe, and as snug and -tight as a pilot's schooner. Near it was a summer-kitchen that seemed -fairly to glow with conscious pride in its cleanness, and the very -foot-path from the gate to the cottage-door was swept like a threshing -floor.</p> - -<p>On the door-step sat a girl in a calico dress of delicate pink, with a -dark gingham apron concealing all its front. She was shelling peas into -a milk-pan which rested on her lap, and the morning sunlight was in her -flaxen hair, and showed you the delicate freshness of a pink-and-white -complexion. Sober hazel eyes were fixed on me as I walked up the -foot-path, and of us two I was the embarrassed one. I have not got over -a certain timidity in asking for work, and each request is a sturdy -effort of the will, with the rest of me in cowardly revolt, and a timid -shrinking much in evidence I fear. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Is this Mr. Hill's farm?" I ask, and I know that I am blushing deeply.</p> - -<p>"Yes," says the young woman, with grave dignity and the most natural -self-possession in the world.</p> - -<p>"Is he at home?" I am sweating freely now, as I stand with my hat -crushed between my hands, and the pack feeling like a mountain on my -back.</p> - -<p>"He is down at the pond on the edge of the farm." And her serious eyes -follow the line of the long lane which sinks from the house with the -downward slope of the land.</p> - -<p>With her permission I leave the pack behind, and then follow the -indicated way. The barn is on my right, a large, unpainted structure, -stained by weather to as dark a hue as the house, but there are no -loose boards about it, nor any rifts among the shingles, and the -doors hang true on their hinges, and meet in well-adjusted touch. The -cowyard and the pigsty flank the lane, and the neatness of the yard -and the tightness of the troughs make clear that there is no waste of -fodder there. Farther down and on my left is the wagon-house, as good -a building almost as the cottage, and with much the same clean, strong -compactness. There are no ploughs nor other farming tools lying exposed -to the weather, no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> signs of idle capital wasting with the wear of -rust, but everywhere the active, thrifty strength of wise economy.</p> - -<p>Two men are at work at the pond, and I pick my man at once. They are -plainly brothers, but the Mr. Hill of whom I am in search is the -stronger-looking man, and is clearly in command of the job. I am -reminded of a certain type which one comes to know on "the street," -a clean-cut, vigorous man, who keeps his youth till sixty, and who, -for many years, has had a masterful, compelling hand upon the conduct -of affairs, has put railways through the West, and opened up mining -regions, and knows the inner workings of legislatures and of much else -besides.</p> - -<p>I wait for a pause in the work, and try to screw my courage to the -sticking-point; and then I tell Mr. Hill that the landlord at the -tavern has sent me to him in the belief that he needs a man, and I add -that I shall be glad of a job. Without preliminary questions Mr. Hill -engages me on the spot, and makes me an offer of board and lodging, -and seventy-five cents a day, which, he says, is the usual rate on -the farms at that season. I close with the bargain, and ask to be set -to work immediately. A minute later I am walking up the lane with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> -message for Mrs. Hill, to the effect that I am the new "hired man," and -that she will please give me, to take to the pond, a certain "broad -hoe" from the wagon-house.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hill understands the situation at once; she makes no comment, but -goes with me to the wagon-house, where she points out the hoe among -other tools in a corner. She has said nothing so far, and I feel a -little uncomfortable, but now she turns to me with a frank directness -of manner that is very reassuring.</p> - -<p>"I ain't got no room for you in the house, but I guess you'll be -comfortable sleeping out here. You can fetch your grip, and I'll show -you your bed."</p> - -<p>Pack in hand, I follow her up the steps to the loft of the wagon-house, -and she points to a cot near the farther window and a wooden chair -beside it. "Some time to-day I'll make up your bed, and if there's -anything you want you can tell me." This is her final word as she -leaves me to return to the house. I slip on my overalls and take note -of my new quarters. Windows at both ends of the loft provide ample -ventilation. The cot is covered with a corn-husk mattress, as clean -and fresh as a cock of new hay. The very floor is free from dust. -The rafters hang thick with bunches of seed-corn <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>on the cob, with -their outer husks removed and the inner husks drawn back and neatly -interwoven, the whole effect suggesting stalactites in a cave. The air -is fragrant with the perfume from slices of apples, that are closely -threaded and hung up to dry in graceful festoons from rafter to rafter.</p> - -<p>Five minutes later I am at work at the pond. The pond is an artificial -one, created by a wooden dam. The water has been allowed to flow out, -and the old woodwork is to be renewed.</p> - -<p>My immediate task is to dig a ditch along the outer side of the rotting -planks, so that they can be removed and replaced by new ones. I am -soon alone on the job, for the farmers' work calls them elsewhere. -The experience in the sewer-ditch at Middletown is all to my credit, -and my spirits rise with the discovery that I can handle my pick and -shovel more effectively, and with less sense of exhaustion. And then -the stint is my own, and no boss stands guard over me as a dishonest -workman. At least I am conscious of none, and I am working on merrily, -when suddenly I become aware of my employer bending over the ditch and -watching me intently.</p> - -<p>It is a face very red with the heat and much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> bespattered with mud, -into which my tools sink gurglingly, that I turn up to him.</p> - -<p>"How are you getting on?"</p> - -<p>"Pretty well, thank you."</p> - -<p>"You mustn't work too hard. All that I ask of a man is to work steady. -Have an apple?"</p> - -<p>He is gone in a moment, and I stand in the ditch eating the apple with -immense relish, and thinking what a good sort that farmer is, and how -thoroughly he understands the principle of getting his best work out -of a man! He has appealed to my sense of honor by intrusting the job -to me, and now he has won me completely to his interests by showing -concern in mine.</p> - -<p>The work is hard, and the morning hours are very long, but the -labor achieves its own satisfaction as the task grows under one's -self-directed effort, and there is no torture of body and soul in the -surveillance of a slave-driving boss.</p> - -<p>But I am thoroughly tired and very hungry when Mr. Hill calls to me -from across the pond that it is time to go to dinner. I join him in -haste, and we walk up the lane together, while he drives his team -before him, and points out with evident pride the young colts and other -stock in the pasture.</p> - -<p>On a bench near the door of the summer-kitchen are two tin basins -full of water, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> there we wash ourselves, drawing by means of a -gourd-dipper from a brimming bucket near by any fresh supply of water -that we want. A coarse, clean towel hangs over a roller above the -bench, and at this we take our turns.</p> - -<p>The dinner is a quiet meal, and tends to solemnity. Mrs. Hill and her -daughter sit opposite the farmer and me. Little is said, but for me -there is absorbing interest in the meal itself. It is worthy of the -best traditions of country life, clean in all its appointments to a -degree of spotlessness, really elegant in its quiet simplicity, and -appetizing?—how was I ever to stop eating those potatoes that spread -under the pressure of my fork into a mass of flaky deliciousness, or -the ears of sweet-corn fresh from a late field, or the green peas that -swim in a sweet stew of their own brewing, or, best of all, the little -pond pickerel that are grilled to a crisp brown turn?</p> - -<p>In our more artificial forms of living we habitually eat when we are -not hungry, and drink when we are not thirsty, and we know little of -the sheer physical delight in meat and drink when our natures seize -joyously upon the means of life, and organs work in glad adaptation -to function, and the organism, in full revival, responds to its -environment! </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> - -<p>The work moves uninterruptedly in the afternoon; and at six o'clock, -as I wearily drag my feet along the lane by the farmer's side, I can -see his daughter driving the cattle through the pasture to the cowyard, -and I wonder how I shall fare at the evening milking. But I am not -put to that test; for the farmer declines my offer of help, with the -explanation that, under our arrangement, my day's work is done at six -o'clock, and that he is not entitled to further help, nor does he need -it, he adds, for his wife and daughter always lend a hand at the chores.</p> - -<p>Supper is almost a repetition of dinner, with a pitcher of rich milk -kindly pressed upon me when I decline the tea, and with apple-sauce and -cake in the place of pumpkin-pie. Soon after, I am lighting my way with -a lantern through the dark to my cot in the loft, and for ten hours -I sleep the sleep of a child, and awake at six in the morning to the -farmer's call of "John, hey John!" from under the window.</p> - -<p>All of that day, which was Wednesday, was given to completing the work -on the dam. The necessary excavation was soon finished, and then we -laid the timbers, and nailed the new planks into place, and filled in -and packed the earth behind them. Over the completed job the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> farmer -expressed such a depth of satisfaction that I felt a glow of pride -in the work, and a sense of proprietorship, which was splendidly -compensating for the effort which it had cost.</p> - -<p>The remaining three days of the week we spent in picking apples. -Behind the wagon-house was an orchard. Mr. Hill first selected a tree, -and then we placed under it the number of empty barrels, which, in -his judgment, corresponded to its yield, a judgment which was always -singularly accurate. Then, each supplied with a half-bushel basket -with a wooden hook attached to the handle, we next climbed among the -branches, and suspending our baskets, we carefully picked the apples -with a quick upward turn of the fruit, which detached them at the point -at which the stem was fast to the twig. Both baskets were usually full -at about the same moment, and then we took turns in climbing down and -receiving the baskets from the tree, and emptying the apples into the -barrels with great caution against possible bruising.</p> - -<p>All this was Arcadian in its joyous simplicity. All day we moved among -the boughs, breathing the fragrance of ripened fruit and the mellow -odor of apple-trees turning at the touch of frost; picking ceaselessly -the full-juiced apples "sweetened with the summer light," while above -us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> white clouds fled briskly before the northwest wind across the -clear blue of the autumn sky; and below us lay the pasture, where the -patient cattle grazed, and beyond stretched open country of field and -forest, which, in that crystal air, met the horizon in a clean, sharp -line.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hill and I were growing very chummy. A faint uncomfortable distrust -of me, which I suspected through the first two days, had wholly -disappeared. We talked with perfect freedom now and with a growing -liking for each other, which, for me, added vastly to the charm of -those six days on the farm.</p> - -<p>I tried at first to lead the talk, and to draw Mr. Hill into -expressions of his views of life, that I might learn his attitude -toward modern progress, and catch glimpses of the growth of things from -his point of view. But Mr. Hill was proof against such promptings. He -was a shrewd, practical farmer, with a masterful hold upon all the -details of his enterprise, and with a mind quickened by thrifty conduct -of his own affairs to a catholic taste for information. His schooling -had been limited, he said, but he must have meant his actual school -training; for life itself had been his school, and admirably had he -improved its advantages. He was a trained observer and a close student -of actual events. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>Instead of my getting him to talk, he made me talk, -but with so natural a force as to rob it of all thought of compulsion.</p> - -<p>The talk drifted early into politics, and I soon found that my -light-hearted generalizations would not pass muster. Back and back he -would press me upon the data of each induction, until I was forced to -tell what I knew, or was confronted with my ignorance.</p> - -<p>And then he delighted in talk of other people than our own, and his -knowledge of a somewhat general contemporaneous history was curiously -varied and accurate. Stories of succeeding English ministries, and -even of the short-lived French cabinets, were ready to his use, and -he tactfully righted me in my errors. But he held me closest to my -memories of things among the common people, the agricultural laborers -in England, and their relation to the farmers, and theirs in turn to -the landed proprietors, and the promise which the land could give of -continued support to three classes, under the changed conditions of -modern life. All that I could remember of a typical laborer's home, -and of its manner of life, and of the general aspect of an English -farm, seemed only to whet his appetite, and to strengthen his demand -for what I knew of the continental peasantry. His interest centred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> -strongly in the French, and there was plainly a peculiar charm for -him in every detail which I could give of the French farmers, with -their small holdings, and their inherited habits of thrift, and of the -close culture of their lands. But he would even lead me on to speak -of great cities, and of the life in them of the rich and poor, and of -any signs, of which I knew, of growing social discontent. And with an -interest that never flagged, he questioned me on works of art; and -followed patiently, and with a zest that warmed one's own enthusiasm, -through endless churches, and long dim galleries, and by narrow, -crooked streets of a modern city to the ruins of its distant past. And -there we restored the crumbling piles, until there stood clear to his -imagination a vision of Imperial Rome, and his eyes kindled to some -great general's triumph moving through the <i>Via Sacra</i>, and the people -swarming to the very chimney-tops, their infants in their arms, and on -the air the deep, rich moving roar of high acclaim!</p> - -<p>Sunday was the last day of my stay on the farm. When, in the middle -of the week, I found that Mr. Hill was likely to keep me, I was -conscience-stricken, because I had not told him that my stay would -be short. He said nothing at first in reply to my announcement,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> but -presently remarked that it was very hard to get men in that part of the -country.</p> - -<p>"But, surely," I said, "more men apply to you for work than you can -possibly employ."</p> - -<p>He looked at me with some wonder, at my ignorance.</p> - -<p>"For a long time I have been looking for a man to help me," he said. -"I'm growing old, and I can't do the work that I once did. If I could -find the right man, I'd keep him the year round, and pay him good -wages. But the best young fellows go to the cities, and the rest are -mostly a worthless lot. There's hardly a day in the year when I haven't -a job for any decent man who'll ask for it. I have to go looking for -men, and then I generally can't find one that's any account."</p> - -<p>This was much the longest speech that he had made to me so far, and a -very interesting one I thought it, and I am only sorry that I cannot -reproduce the exact phraseology, with its Anglo-Saxon words set, by an -instinctive choice, into rugged sentences which admirably expressed the -man. I waited hopefully for further speech from him, and at last it -came, quite of its own accord; for I had given up trying to draw him -out.</p> - -<p>We were sitting together on Sunday evening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> on the platform of the -pump in front of the farm-house. It had been a very restful Sunday. In -the morning I went to the village church, where two services followed -each other in quick succession. The first was a prayer-meeting, -attended by a little company of farming people and village folk, who -conscientiously parted company at the door on the basis of sex, and sat -on opposite sides of a central aisle.</p> - -<p>The service was a simple one. The leader read a passage from the -Bible, and offered prayer, and then gave out a hymn. When the singing -ceased, one after another, the older men, with nervous pauses between, -rose to "testify" or sank to their knees, and prayed aloud. I chiefly -remember one as a typical figure—an old man, whose thick white hair -mingled with a bushy beard that covered his face. I noticed him first -in comfortable possession of a bench along which he stretched his legs. -On his feet were loose carpet-slippers; and with his shoulders braced -against the wall, and his head thrown back, and his eyes closed, he -looked the vision of physical ease, which matched the expression of -deep contentment that he wore. There was no suspicion of sleep about -him. Most evidently he followed with liveliest sympathy every word that -was said or sung. I looked up <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>presently at the sound of a new voice, -and found the old man on his feet. He was adding his "testimony" to -what had gone before, and was speaking rapidly in a deep, gruff voice -with blunt articulation. There was a strong reminder in the performance -of a school-boy's "speaking his piece;" the monotonous, unnatural tone; -the rapid flow of conventional, committed phrase; and the nervous -tension, which communicated itself to his hearers in a fear that he -might forget.</p> - -<p>But there came at length, without calamity, the final "Pray for me -that I may be kept faithful," and then he knelt in prayer. Invocations -from the Prophets, and supplications from the Psalms, and glowing -exhortations from the Epistles, were interwoven with strangest -interpolations of his own, while his voice rose and fell in regular -cadences and he audibly caught his breath between. But he was losing -himself in his devotion, and presently his voice fell to a natural -tone, and his words grew plain and direct, as he held converse with -the Almighty about our common life—of sin and its awful guilt, of -temptation and its fateful trial, of suffering and its terrible -reality, of sorrow and its cruel mystery. Then, as though quickened -by the touch of truth, his faith rose on surer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> wings, and his prayer -breathed the sense of sin forgiven, and of life made strong by a power -not our own, and of hope exultant in the knowledge "of that new life -when sin shall be no more!"</p> - -<p>A solemn stillness held us when he rose, and made us feel the presence -in our common lot of things divine and that deep sacredness of life -which awes us most.</p> - -<p>A short preaching service followed. The preacher drove up on the hour -from another parish, and started off, at the meeting's end, for yet a -third appointment.</p> - -<p>This is a long digression from Mr. Hill's talk of the evening, and -I have said nothing yet of the afternoon. We took chairs out on the -grass in front of the cottage, after dinner, and sat in the shade. -We soon had visitors. Mr. Hill's brother and his wife walked up from -the lower farm, and a little later there came Mr. Hill's son and his -young bride. The son is a physician, whose practice covers much of -that country-side; and it was interesting to me to learn that his -professional training was got at the College of Physicians and Surgeons -in New York.</p> - -<p>Fearful of disturbing the family gathering, I drew off a little, and -gave my attention to a book. Late in the afternoon I was roused by -the coming of another guest. He was an old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> neighboring farmer out -in search of a heifer which had broken through the pasture-fence. As -he joined us he was speaking so swiftly and incoherently about the -heifer's escape that I felt some doubt of his sanity, but he quieted -down in a moment, and threw himself on the grass with the evident -purpose of resting before resuming the search. He was lying flat upon -his back, and his long bony fingers were clasped under his head. He -wore no hat, nor coat, nor waistcoat, and a dark gingham shirt lay -close to the sharp outlines of his almost fleshless body. Braces that -were patched with strings passed over his lean shoulders, and were -made fast to faded blue jeans, whose extremities were tucked into an -old pair of cowhide boots. A long white beard rested on his breast, -reaching almost to his waist. Only a thin fringe of hair remained above -his ears; and over the skull the bare skin was so tightly drawn that -you could almost trace the zigzagging junctures of the frontal and the -cranium bones.</p> - -<p>But skeleton as he was, he was marvellously alive. His eyes were -aflame, and prone as he lay and resting, he impressed you as a man so -vitalized, that with a single movement he could be upon his feet and -in intense activity. He was talking on about the heifer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> nervously -repeating to us, again and again, the details of where he had seen her -last, and the rift which he had found in the fence, and how he had sent -his hired man in one direction, and had gone in another himself.</p> - -<p>He was a rich farmer, Mr. Hill told me afterward, and he lived alone, -except for an occasional hired man whom he could induce to stay with -him for a season. But even in his old age he worked on his farm -with the strength and endurance of three men, laying aside, year by -year, his store of gain. Without a single human tie he worked on as -though spurred by every claim of affection and the highest sense of -responsibility to provide for those whom he loved; and all the while a -vast misanthropy grew upon him, and he would see less and less of his -fellow-men, and an almost life-long scepticism hardened into downright -unbelief.</p> - -<p>So far he had not noticed me; but now he turned my way, lifting himself -upon his elbow, and fixing his sunken, burning eyes on mine, while the -white hairs of his beard mingled with the blades of grass.</p> - -<p>"You're hired out to Jim, ain't ye?"</p> - -<p>Jim was his designation of Mr. Hill.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said.</p> - -<p>"What's he payin' you?" </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> - -<p>I told him.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hill was squirming in nervous discomfort.</p> - -<p>"What's your name?"</p> - -<p>I gave it him.</p> - -<p>"Where are you come from?"</p> - -<p>"Connecticut."</p> - -<p>"Connecticut? That's down South, ain't it?"</p> - -<p>"No, that's down East."</p> - -<p>"Was you raised there?"</p> - -<p>I do not know into what particulars of my history and of my antecedents -this process might have forced me had not the heifer come to my relief. -She was a beautiful creature, with a clean sorrel coat, and wide, -liquid, mischievous eyes; and as she ran daintily over the turf at -the side of the lane, saucily tossing her head, you knew that she was -closely calculating every chance of dodging the gawky country boy who, -breathing hard, lunged after her.</p> - -<p>Without a word of parting, and as abruptly as he came, the old man was -gone to head her off in the right direction at the mouth of the lane. -And so he disappeared, as strange a human being as the world holds, -living tremendously a life of strenuous endeavor, yet Godless and -hopeless and loveless in it all, except for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> greedy love of gain, -which holds him in miserable bondage, as he works his life away.</p> - -<p>It was soon after supper that Mr. Hill and I sat down together on the -platform of the pump. There was little movement in the air, and it was -very mild for the twenty-seventh of September. As the stars appeared, -they shone upon us through a mellow warmth, like that of summer, in -which they seem magically near, and one feels their calm companionship -in human things.</p> - -<p>"And you've made up your mind to go in the morning?" Mr. Hill began.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said, "I must be off. I am truly sorry to go. But you surprise -me by what you tell me of the difficulty in the country of getting men -to work. One hears so much about 'the unemployed,' that any demand for -labor, which remains unsupplied, seems to me an anomalous condition."<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> - -<p>"That's a big question," he said, with a deep sigh, as he leant back -against the pump and looked at me out of blue eyes that were gray<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> and -keen in the starlight. "It reminds me of what we used to call a hard -example in arithmetic in the district school when I was a boy. There's -a good many things you've got to take account of, if you work it out -right, and there's a good many chances of mistake, and a mistake goes -hard with your answer. I haven't worked this sum and I haven't seen it -worked, but I've studied it a good while, and I think I know how to do -parts of it."</p> - -<p>He paused for a moment and then went on: "In the last hundred and -fifty years there have been great changes in the world in the ways of -producing things—'improved methods of production' the books call it. -Some say it ain't really 'improved,' only faster and cheaper, but I'm -not arguing that point. The power of people to produce the necessaries -of life is a big sight greater than it was a hundred and fifty years -ago—that's my point. It's what the books call 'increased power of -production.' And among civilized people there's been this increase of -producing power in about all the forms of production. In some forms -it's been very great, and in others not so great; but I guess there -ain't many kinds of business that haven't been changed by it.</p> - -<p>"Now, I think that the farming business has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> lagged behind the -rest. Not that there ain't been improvement, for there's been -great improvement. There's the steam-ploughs, and the reapers, and -harvesters, and mowers, and the threshing-machines; and then there's -the science of agricultural chemistry. But I'm judging of what I know -of the farming business as it's carried on.</p> - -<p>"Now, here's my farm: it's part of a tract that my great-grandfather -settled on and cleared. I've heard my grandfather tell many a time of -the Indians that were all about here when he was a boy, and even my -father often went hunting deer down on the lake this side of the woods.</p> - -<p>"Well, I know this country pretty well, and I find that a farmer now -don't work any bigger farm than my grandfather did, nor the work isn't -much lighter, nor he doesn't get much more for it. There's been a -good many changes, but as the farming business goes, there ain't any -increased production that's kept up with other kinds of business when -you calculate how many farmers there are and how much they do.</p> - -<p>"I read in a book the other day that twenty-five men, with modern -machinery, can produce as much cotton cloth as the whole population -of Lancashire could produce in the old way; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> there ain't any -twenty-five men who could work the farms of this township with all the -modern farming machinery.</p> - -<p>"Take it day in and day out the whole year round on the farms, and a -man's work or a team's work is pretty much what it was a hundred years -ago.</p> - -<p>"And here's another thing that makes a great difference between -farming and other kinds of business. When I go to the city I most -generally visit some factory and go through it as carefully as I can. -The machinery is interesting and wonderful, and if it's something -useful they're making, I like to compare the productive power of the -factory hands with what it would be if they were all working separately -by the old methods. But besides this, there's the wonderful economy -that I see. The factory is built so as to save all the carting that's -possible, and there's men always studying how they can make it more -convenient, and can improve the machinery and cut down the costs. -And then I don't find any leakage anywhere that can be helped; and -it's most wonderful what they do in some kinds of manufacturing -with what you'd think was the very refuse, working it up into some -by-product that makes the difference between profit and loss in the -whole business. It's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> close culture of the closest kind applied to -manufacture.</p> - -<p>"Sometimes I've had a chance to talk to a superintendent of a factory, -and he's told me about the business from the inside—how carefully -he must study the market and how closely he must calculate a hundred -things; and how exactly his books must be kept, and how easy it is for -a little thing that's been miscalculated or overlooked to ruin the -business.</p> - -<p>"I tell you that I've come to see pretty clearly that the business -that pays in these times of competition is a powerful lucky one and -powerful well managed. When the year's work is done and the wages have -been paid, and the rent and the interest on the capital paid up, and -the salaries paid to the brains that run the thing, it's a remarkable -business that's got anything over in the way of profit.</p> - -<p>"Now, the farming business, as I look at it, is a long way behind all -that. We don't know much about close culture in farming in America, and -I don't believe there's one farmer in five hundred that keeps books -and can tell you exactly where he stands; and these things we've got -to learn. It's terrible easy to let things go their own way pretty -much—until the fences are falling down and your buildings are out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> -repair, and your tools are going to ruin with rust, and your children -are not having good advantages. You may think that you're too poor to -afford anything different and that it's economy to live so. But it -ain't; it's the worst kind of waste. It takes a sight of hard work, -brainwork, and handwork, too, to get good, substantial buildings and -fences, and tools and stock, and to keep them good and to raise your -children well. You've got to make a close calculation on every penny, -but it's the only true economy. The difference between the economy of -shabbiness and the economy of thrift is the difference between waste -and saving.</p> - -<p>"My father could not give me much school learning, but he learnt me to -farm it thoroughly. I've been at it a good many years now, and I know -by experience the truth of what he taught me. If there's ever been -anything more than our living at the end of the year, it's only because -we all worked hard, my wife and daughter as hard in the house as me -and my son on the farm; and because we studied to raise the best of -everything we could, and to get the best prices we could, and we saved -every penny that could be saved.</p> - -<p>"My son wanted to study to be a doctor when he was growing up, and so -I gave him the best<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> schooling that he could get around here; and when -he was old enough, and I saw his mind was made up, I sent him to the -best medical college I could find. And I've given my daughter all the -schooling she's had the strength for. It's the best economy to get the -best, whether it's buildings, or tools, or stock, or education; and -there's a great deal more satisfaction in it besides. I tell you this -because it's my experience, and I know it, but I owe it mainly to the -raising my father gave me. It's hard work, and it's hard study, and -it's awful careful economy in little things as well as big, that makes -a man succeed in any business.</p> - -<p>"You've heard the saying that 'the luxuries of one generation are the -necessities of the next.' That's certainly true in the country. I've -heard my grandfather say that when he was a boy it didn't take more -than ten dollars a year to pay for everything that the family bought. -All that they wore and ate and drank they raised on the farm, and they -built their own buildings, and made their own tools, mostly, and worked -out most of their taxes.</p> - -<p>"I'm not saying that farmers must go back to that. It ain't possible. -It's every way better now to buy your cloth than to make it, and so -with your tools, and many other things; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> when I see a farmer's -family spend in a year for clothes and feathers and finery as much as -ten families did for all they bought in the old days, and at the same -time their fences are falling and their stock suffering from neglect, -I see that these people don't know their business. And when I see a -farmer mortgage a piece of land to give his daughter a fashionable -wedding, and then complain that there ain't a living to be made any -more in farming, I'm sorry for him.</p> - -<p>"You see, in the old days the ways of farming were primitive and -simple, and the ways of living were primitive and simple, too, and they -matched each other. Now both have changed. Farming is different, and -living in the country is different. The style of living in the country -is copied from the towns, where there's been the greatest increase of -producing power; and I argue that the increase of producing power on -the farms hasn't by any means kept up to what it is in the cities.</p> - -<p>"Now, this difference ain't unnatural. Everybody knows that the big -fortunes of the last hundred years have mostly been made in manufacture -in the cities, and in the increase of land values in the cities, and -in the development of railroads and mines. And where the big fortunes -have been made, there's been the best chances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> for brains and energy -and enterprise. And where brains and energy and enterprise are at work, -there all kinds of labor will go, for it's these that make employment -for labor.</p> - -<p>"Now, it ain't saying anything against farmers to say that the best -brains that have been born on the farms for the last hundred years -haven't stayed on the farms. The farming business hasn't had the -benefit of them, but they've gone to the professions, and the business -in the cities, where the most money was to be made.</p> - -<p>"So that through all this time of 'increasing power of production' -there's been a constant drain from the country of its best brains and -blood, and it ain't strange that the farming business has lagged behind -the others which these have gone into.</p> - -<p>"I believe there's going to be a change. I believe the change is begun. -Competition is so keen now in about all kinds of business, that the -chances of making a fortune and making it quick are very few. There's -about so much interest to be got for your capital, and if the security -is good, the interest is very low, and there's about so much to be -got for your brains, unless you've got particular rare brains; and as -the competition grows keener, brains begin to see that there's about -as much to be made out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> farming as out of other kinds of business. -Invention has done a lot already, and when the same economy and thrift -and thorough business principles are used in farming as are used in -other kinds of production, the farming business will soon catch up -with the others. And where the brains and enterprise and energy go, -labor will soon follow; and for a time anyway, there won't be as many -unemployed in the cities, nor as many farmers in the country looking -for men to work. But why are there unemployed in the cities, while -there is already a demand for men in the country? Why, because many of -the unemployed ain't fit for us to take into our homes as hired men, -and many don't know that there's such a chance for them, and many if -they do know, would sooner starve in the cities than work and live on -a farm. I've got an idea that when the farming business is developed, -there'll be a big change in country life. Where there's plenty of -brains and push and enterprise, there's likely to be excitement.</p> - -<p>"But it's got to come naturally; you can't pump interest into country -living by legislation. I had to laugh the other day when I was reading -a speech that Mr. John Morley made in Manchester, I think it was. -Anyway, he was arguing for parish councils, and he said that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> this -'gregarious instinct' that makes country people flock into towns that -are already overcrowded, is something that we ought to counteract -by making country life more interesting, and he thought that parish -councils would help to do that. Lord Salisbury got into him pretty well -a short time after, when he said in a speech that he never had thought -it was the duty of the government to provide amusement for the people, -but if <i>he</i> was making a suggestion in that line, he would like to -recommend the circus.</p> - -<p>"There's another reason besides the keen competition in other kinds of -business that makes me think that farming is going to be brought up -to the others, and that is, that so many of the colleges are teaching -scientific farming. You ain't going to see any very great result from -this in a year, nor in ten years, for there's a pretty big field to -work on. But when smart young fellows that are raised in the country, -and other smart young fellows that see a good chance to make something -at farming—when they all get a thorough training in scientific -farming, and when they all get down to work, just as they would in some -other highly developed form of production, you will see results. There -won't be much in shiftless farming when the scientific kind pretty -generally sets the pace. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I've read a good deal, of late years, about 'organized charities' in -the cities, and it certainly does seem as if charity was a good deal -more sensible than it used to be. It's hard to see how there can be any -kind of serious destitution in the cities that ain't got some society -to relieve it. And the rich in the cities do certainly spend a powerful -lot of time and work and money in keeping up these charities and -amusements for the poor; but I don't see any signs that the poor love -the rich any more, nor that there's any less danger but that some day -they'll rise up in war against society.</p> - -<p>"It seems to me that a good deal of all this time, and labor, and -money, and a good deal more besides, might be better spent in providing -that no child among the poor grows up without proper education, -technical education in useful trades; especially, I think, in -scientific farming.</p> - -<p>"If the rich lived simpler and less showy, the poor wouldn't envy them -as much, nor feel as bitter against society, and the money that was -saved could be pretty well invested in kinds of education that would -cure poverty and destitution by preventing them, and the people that -would be thrown out of work by the economies of the rich might be a -good deal better <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>employed in more productive work. It seems a pity, -anyway, to keep people at practically useless labor, when the brains -and the money that keep them employed in that way might be used in -keeping them at productive labor, and it's all the greater pity as long -as there's bitter want in the world for the necessaries of life."</p> - -<p>This, in substance, is what he said. I apologize for the injustice -of the account, its vagueness in contrast with his clearness, its -circumlocutions in contrast with his crisp sententiousness, its -weakened renderings of his vigorous forms of native speech; but I have -tried to suggest it all, and to give the sense of its manly, wholesome -spirit.</p> - -<p>Under the stars we sat talking until nearly midnight, and, quite -inevitably, we launched upon the subject of religion. Mr. Hill appeared -curiously apathetic, I thought, as I urged what seemed to me vital. -And when, at the end, he narrowed it all to the single inquiry as to -whether I believed in a real recognition in some future life among -those who have loved one another here, I found myself wondering, with a -feeling of disappointment, at so wide a drift from essentials, on the -part of a mind which had impressed me as so natively clear and strong. -I looked up in my surprise. Even in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>starlight I could see the -tears, and from a single halting sentence, I got the hint of a daughter -dead in early childhood, and of a sorrow too deep for human speech, and -of an eager questioning of the future that was the soul's one great -desire.</p> - -<p>"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face; now -I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known," was -all that I could say to him, and I went to bed pitying myself for my -shallow judgment, and my ignorance of life.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> I have presented here, together with ideas advanced by Mr. -Hill, others secured in fragmentary conversations with various farmers -by the way. These ideas seem to me to represent a body of accordant -thinking. It is fair to say that I also found among the farmers quite -another school of thought. This I shall try to present later with equal -fulness.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VI</span> <span class="smaller">IN A LOGGING CAMP</span></h2> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Fitz-Adams's Camp, English Centre, Lycoming<br /> -County, Pa.</span>, Tuesday, October 27, 1891. </p> - -<p>In spite of the fast-falling rain, Fitz-Adams, the boss, ordered us -up at half-past four, as usual, this morning; but when breakfast was -over, the rain was too heavy to admit of our going to work. Some of the -woodsmen are gone back to bed, and some are mending their clothes in -the loft, and the rest of the gang are loafing in the "lobby," smoking, -and playing what they call "High, low, Jack and the game," except Mike, -a superb young Irishman, who, seated on a bench, with his back braced -against the window-sill, is reading a worn paper copy of one of the -Duchess's novels, which is the only book that I have so far seen in -the camp. Jennie, the head-cook and housekeeper, has given me leave to -write at one of the long tables where the gang is fed.</p> - -<p>It is a relief sometimes to get away from the men. There may be <i>ennui</i> -that is more soul-destroying, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>but I have never known any that caused -such evidently acute suffering as the form which seizes upon workingmen -of my class in hours of enforced idleness. When the day's work is done, -they take their rest as a matter of course, and enjoy it. But a day -like this, which lays them off from work, and shuts them within doors, -furnishes awful evidence of the poverty of their lives. Most of the -men here can read, but not to one of them is reading a resource. The -men at play are in blasphemous ill-temper over the cards, and are, -apparently, on the brink of blows, while Mike is laboriously spelling -his way through a page, and nervously squirming in an effort to find -a comfortable seat. And I know, from the experience of Sundays, in -what humor the men will come down to dinner from the loft, to face an -afternoon of eternal length to them, which, in some way, must be lived -through.</p> - -<p>I note the contrast with their normal selves the more, because, as -a body of workmen, this is much the most wholesomely happy company -which I have so far fallen in with. We are about twenty in number, a -curiously assorted crew, all bred to the roughest life. Far up in the -mountains, miles from any settlement, we live the healthful life of -a lumber camp, working<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> from starlight to starlight; breathing the -mountain air, keen with the frosty vigor of autumn, and fragrant of -pine and hemlock; eating ravenously the plain, well-cooked food which -is served to us, now in the camp and now on the mountain-side, where we -sit among the newly stripped logs; sleeping deeply at night in closely -crowded beds in the cabin-loft, where the wind sweeps freely from -end to end through the gaping chinks between the logs, and where, on -rising, we sometimes slip out of bed upon a carpeting of snow. This is -the life which these men know and which half-unconsciously they love, -breaking from it at times, in a passion of discontent, and spending the -earnings of months in a short, wild <i>abandon</i> of debauch, but always -coming back again, remorseful, ashamed to meet the faces of the other -men, yet reviving as by miracle under the touch of their native life. -They charm you with their freedom of spirit, and their rude sturdiness -of character, until you find your heart warming to them with a real -affection, and feeling for them the intimate pain of personal sorrow -at sight of their cruel limitations. Away from their work, their -one notion of the necessary accompaniment to leisure is money; and -possessed of time and treasure, their first instinctive reach is after -liquor and lust. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> - -<p>Even now as Fitz-Adams and his brother, in yellow oil-cloth coats and -wide tarpaulins, set out through the pouring rain in an open rig for -English Centre, there is a chorus of voices from the door and windows -of the cabin, shouting to them to bring back whiskey and plenty of it. -If they do, and the rain continues, only God knows what the camp will -be to-night.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * * *</p> - -<p>It is sixty miles, I should judge, from Pleasant Hill to Williamsport, -and it proved a two days' march. Although the distance covered must -have been about the same on both days, the difference that they each -presented in actual experience of the journey was of the kind-of -contrast which a wayfarer must expect.</p> - -<p>Monday was a faultless autumn day. The air was quick, and the roads -were in good condition, and I was feeling fit, and was "passing rich" -with three dollars and seventy-five cents, the wages of five days on -the farm.</p> - -<p>The region through which I walked was typical of the open country of -the Middle States. Over its rolling surface was the varied arrangement -of wood and field and pasture-land, with the farmers' houses and barns -attesting separate possession. There were frequent brooks and narrow -winding country roads; roads lined with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> zigzag rail fences and loose -stone walls, along which dwarfed birches grew, and elderberry bushes, -and sumach, with wild grape-vines and clematis creeping on the walls; -while in the coarse turf on the banks, there blossomed immortelles, and -purple aster, and golden-rod.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hill had given me clear directions. At the post-office of Irish -Lane I turned sharply toward Marshall's Hollow, and passed on the -way a camp-meeting ground, where deep in the shadows of a grove -stood numbers of rough wooden huts; grouped in chance community, and -little suggesting in the weird stillness of desertion, the sounds of -revival worship, with which they are made to ring through a part of -every summer. At Harveyville I turned abruptly up the hillside in the -direction of Cambra. It was high noon when I reached that village, and -I was but a few miles beyond it, on the way to Benton, when I stopped -to get something to eat. It was the evident poverty of the house where -I stopped that interested me. I knew that there was no hope of earning -a meal at such a place, but I could pay for what I ate, and I was sure -of being less of an annoyance there than at some well-to-do farmer's -house.</p> - -<p>The cottage was an unpainted wooden shell, and, like it, the corn-crib -and pig-pen and little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> barn beyond seemed tottering to a fall. Faded -leaves of a woodbine, that climbed upon the cottage, were thick -about the door-way, and lay strewn by the wind upon the bare floor -within. There was but one room on the ground floor, and a stove and -a sewing-machine and a small wooden chest were all its furniture. I -knocked at the open door. Through an opposite one, communicating with a -lean-to, a woman appeared. She was large and muscular, but in her face -was the sickly pallor of ill-nourishment, and her hair was dishevelled, -and the loose, ragged dress which she wore was covered with dark, -greasy stains.</p> - -<p>I asked for bread and milk; she explained that the family had just -finished dinner, but that she could give me something, if I would wait, -and she invited me to a seat on the chest.</p> - -<p>I drew from my pack an unfinished newspaper, and as I read I could -feel innumerable eyes upon me. Through the cracks in the door, and the -ragged breaks in the plaster, came the inquisitive gaze of children's -eyes, and I could hear their eager whispers as a swarm of children -crowded one another for possession of the best peep-holes.</p> - -<p>Their mother asked me in, and set before me, on a table littered with -remnants of dinner, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> pitcher of fresh milk and some huge slices -of coarse bread, a large yellow bowl, and a pewter tablespoon. The -children stared at me as I ate, and I tried to form an accurate -estimate of their number, but despaired when, after I thought that -I had distinguished eight, I found my estimate upset by sudden -apparitions of faces hitherto unrecognized. The oldest child seemed -not more than twelve, and the youngest lay asleep in a cradle near the -stove, where its mother could rock it as she worked. They all were as -ragged and dirty as the children of the slums, but they had nothing -of the vivacity of these, nor of the quick adjustment to changing -circumstances which gives to children, bred upon the street, their -first hold upon your interest.</p> - -<p>Stolid and wide-eyed they stood about the room, intently watching me, -moving here and there for new points of view; until their mother, who -had showed no wish to talk as she washed the dishes, now broke the -silence with a sounding cuff upon the ear of a little boy, as, with a -loud command, she sent him sobbing into the back yard to fetch her wood.</p> - -<p>The children scattered instantly, except a little girl with flaxen -hair and grotesquely dirty face, who clung to her mother's skirts, and -seemed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> hamper her immeasurably; the more so as the baby had wakened -in the noise, and had begun to cry. I grew sick with fear of what was -coming next, but the mother's mood had changed; for catching the crying -baby in her arms, she almost smothered it with kisses, and sitting down -she fondled it, and gently stroked the head of the child beside her.</p> - -<p>It was a veritable country slum, with nearly all the barren squalor of -a crowded tenement. You thought of life in it as some hard necessity, -from which all choice and spontaneity are gone. And so in great part -it must have been, and the wonder was the stronger at sight of the -instinct of mother love, springing like a living fountain in an arid -plain.</p> - -<p>The village of Benton wore a preoccupied air when I entered it. I soon -found the cause in an auction sale of horses in the stable-yard of the -tavern. The horses huddled close, as if for common protection, in an -angle formed by the buildings. They were watched by a mounted rider, -whose duty it was to prevent any from breaking loose. A small crowd -of farmers and village men, all of them coatless and in their working -clothes, formed a semicircle about the animals. The surrounding doors -and windows were full of women's faces, alive with interest in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> the -progress of events; and children perched upon the fences, or dodged in -and out among the groups of men. A fat and ruddy auctioneer walked back -and forth excitedly before the crowd, loudly repeating a call for bids; -or having caught one, running it rapidly through changes of inflection -and intonation, until a fresh bid started him anew on his flight of -varying tones, which ended at last in the dying cadences of "Going! -going! gone!"</p> - -<p>Presently I found a man who was so far unoccupied by the sale as to -have leisure to direct me on my way. Taking his advice I started for -Union Church and Unityville. In the outskirts of Benton, as I left -the village, an urchin sat upon the door-step of a cottage, idly -beating about him with a stick, consoling himself apparently as best -he could for not having been allowed to go to the sale. The sight of -a tramp with a pack upon his back diverted him; and far as the sound -could carry there came following me, as I climbed the hill beyond the -village, his shouts of "Git there, Eli!"</p> - -<p>The contrast with Monday's march appeared at once on Tuesday morning. -The clouds which were threatening when I made an early start grew more -threatening while I walked on, and they broke in torrents of rain as I -entered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> Lairdsville, with Williamsport still twenty-four miles away.</p> - -<p>A tavern gave me shelter, but presently the rain slackened and I made -up my mind to push on to Williamsport in spite of the storm, for my -letters were there; and once on the road with your mail definitely in -view, you grow highly impatient of delays.</p> - -<p>An hour's rain had worked great changes in the roads. Hard and dusty -when I set out in the early morning, they were quagmires now and were -running with muddy streams. The rain pelted my face and dripped through -my ragged hat, and trickled down my back and washed into my boots. I -was a dangerous-looking vagrant when I reached Hughesville at noon. I -walked rapidly through the village street in some fear of arrest, but -the storm had passed, and I soon learned the road to Williamsport by -way of Hall's Landing.</p> - -<p>Splashing wearily along the heavy roads with that awful load chafing my -back, I knew vaguely that I was passing through an exceedingly rich and -beautiful farming region, but my interest was all in the surest footing -to be found, and it was with glad relief that late in the afternoon I -stepped upon the solid pavements of the town.</p> - -<p>I had been told, on the road, of a laborer's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> cottage in Church Street -where cheap board and lodging could be had. From the post-office I -readily found my way to this cottage, and was soon propped up in bed -reading my letters, while the laborer's wife hung up my clothes to dry -in the kitchen and put my boots under the stove.</p> - -<p>In the morning all the brilliance of the clear, cold autumn had -returned. It was such a day as seems to emerge renewed with fresh and -ample vigor from the cleansing of a storm.</p> - -<p>The streets presented a really singular picture. The town itself is -the conventional American, provincial, manufacturing centre, with its -business portion built up in "brick blocks," which are innocent of -any attraction but utility. From this quarter it shades gradually, in -one direction, into the workshops and cottages of the region of the -proletariat, and in another into the wide, well-shaded avenues where -are the somewhat ostentatious homes and churches of the well-to-do.</p> - -<p>Long lines of booths now crowded the curves about the central public -square and reached far down the communicating streets. In these booths -the farming people of the surrounding country sold their fruits and -garden vegetables, and butter and eggs and poultry; and white-aproned -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>butchers spread their meats in tempting array. It was an Oriental -bazaar in all but color and the highly pitched jabber of Eastern -bargaining. But still more perfect as a reproduction of foreign scenes -were the groups of women who, with colored shawls tied round their -heads and falling about their shoulders, sat on the steps of public -buildings with baskets of provisions about them and talked among -themselves, and came to terms with customers in their oddly mixed -vernacular.</p> - -<p>It recalled at once the Platz of a German city thronged by peasant -women on market days, only here, too, was a lack of color. The women -were unmistakably Teutonic. All had the generous contour of countenance -which approaches to a family likeness in a whole race of peasantry, -but the red of the old country complexion had faded to our prevailing -pallor.</p> - -<p>In Spite of a large foreign element, or in virtue of it, I do not know -which, the town itself is aggressively American. The fact that some -hundreds of million feet of lumber come each year from its mills gives -to it great importance as a lumber centre. And the good fortune of this -form of industry the city certainly shows in its freedom from the usual -begriming effects of manufacture on a large scale. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> - -<p>In one of the morning papers of the town I found the spirit of the -place expressed in a reported speech of a local celebrity, an ex-member -of Congress. The chief burden of it was the note of congratulation to -the people of the town on their progress and prosperity, as indicated -in their electric lights and rapid transit system, and in their growing -industries and increasing numbers, which, he declared, "had passed the -stopping-point."</p> - -<p>But I must hurry on. Early on Friday afternoon, October 9th, I set out -from Williamsport, with Oil City as my next objective point. I had no -money, but this did not disturb me, for I was entering the open country -and felt sure of finding work. The road lay along the fertile river -bottom and then began to climb the range of hills which walls in the -valley on the north. The lasting impression here is of a region of most -uncommon natural wealth. Many square miles of farms come into the range -of vision; the soil looks like a deep, rich loam. And a like impression -comes to you from the opposite bank of the river, where the land lies -flat to the foot of the southern range of hills.</p> - -<p>From such a vantage ground you see at a glance how the river, shut in -by these barriers, could have risen to so great a height in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> flood -of 1889 and have worked such appalling disaster.</p> - -<p>There are constant references to "the flood" among the inhabitants of -the valley, and it plainly holds for them the place of a chronological -mark not unlike that held farther East by the "blizzard" of 1888, -only it sounds not a little odd at first to hear common reference to -antediluvian events.</p> - -<p>Presently I came to a road which forked at Linden to the right, and -made in the direction of a gap in the hills. Its general course seemed -westward, and so I followed it. An hour or two later it had led me -into a forest, where the sunlight was fast fading. I was intent on the -question of finding work before nightfall, when I heard the rumble of -wheels behind me, and a voice singing a German song.</p> - -<p>I looked up as the wagon came alongside. The horses were walking -slowly up the hill, and a young man lounged at leisure on the seat. -His legs were crossed, and the reins lay loosely in one hand. A light, -wide-brimmed felt hat was pushed back on his crown, and from under the -rim the yellow hair rested on his forehead. He was singing from sheer -lightness of heart; and young and strong and handsome as he was, he -made you think of Alvary in his part of <i>Siegfried</i>. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Have a ride?" he called to me, and there was no trace of foreign -accent in his speech.</p> - -<p>"Thank you," I said; and in another moment my pack was in the bottom of -the wagon and I on the seat beside the driver.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going?"</p> - -<p>"I'm looking for a job."</p> - -<p>"You want work on a farm?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, that or any other kind of work that I can get."</p> - -<p>"Well, there ain't much doing on the farms now. I don't know nobody -that's looking for a hired man. There's Abe Potter, I heard him say -as how he wanted to hire a man to work for him all winter; but Miss' -Potter, she told my wife last night that he'd got Jim Hale's boy, Al, -to live out to him. Say, did you ever work in the woods?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Well, there's plenty of work in the woods. It's a rough life, but it -ain't so bad when you're used to it. I worked in the woods before I -was married. I could go out to the woods now, and earn two dollars a -day and my keep; but my wife wouldn't let me. And it's a pretty rough -life, only I come to like it. But I've got my farm now, and my wife and -children; and her old folks lives with us, and I've got to stay to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> -home, and take care of things. Say, where are you going to-night?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I'll try to find some place to stay where I can help -with the work to pay for my keep; and then to-morrow I'll go to the -woods, and try to get a job."</p> - -<p>"I tell you, stranger, you stay at my house to-night, and in the -morning you can go to English Centre. I guess you'll get a job on one -of the camps."</p> - -<p>My thanks could have expressed but little of the gratitude I felt. -I shared his light-hearted mood at once, and was a very interested -and attentive listener to the narrative of his early life; his -disagreements with his father, and how he had inherited the farm from -him burdened with debt, but had almost paid the mortgages, and had his -eye now upon a neighbor's farm with a view to purchasing that.</p> - -<p>He was singing again as we drove up the lane toward his home, and -was plainly expectant. The cause was clear when two children, a girl -and boy of about six and four, came running toward the wagon, with -excited cries of welcome. They drew up sharply at sight of a stranger, -and their father loudly greeted them with a medley of affectionate -diminutives in English and German, until they lost their fear,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> and -began to talk rapidly with him in the quaintest German, which sounded -as though it might be one with the strange dialects which you see in -<i>Fliegende Blätter</i>.</p> - -<p>I helped to unhitch the horses, and then asked whether there was more -that I could do. There were apples to be picked up from under the trees -in the orchard, and I worked at this task until dark, when there came -the call to supper.</p> - -<p>After that meal the children were put to bed, and the rest of us -gathered in the kitchen, where a large open fire burned, and an -oil-lamp lent its light. An "apple-butter making" was to be the feature -of the next day's work, and we spent the evening in getting ready for -it.</p> - -<p>We sat in a semicircle in front of the fire, first the farmer's wife, -and then the patriarchal grandfather, who was almost deaf, and was -known to all the household by the not euphonious name of "Gross-pap," -and next to him the grandmother, and last the guest. The farmer himself -sat at a table near us, briskly working an apple-peeler, while the rest -of us removed the cores, and cut the apples into small sections.</p> - -<p>It was a very comfortable place which I seemed to have found in the -household. I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> taken in with natural hospitality, and the family -life moved on unhampered by my presence, while I, a welcome guest, -could sit and watch it at my ease.</p> - -<p>The old man had every excuse for silence, and he and his wife spoke -rarely, and always in their native tongue, but they evidently -understood English perfectly. The farmer and his wife spoke English to -each other, and spoke it as though born to its use, but they used that -quaint German dialect in talking with the old people and the children.</p> - -<p>The wife was a plain woman, inclined to fretfulness, I thought, and -she had a certain air with her husband, which is not uncommon to plain -women whose husbands are distinctly handsome. She had little to say, -but she listened attentively to the farmer's talk.</p> - -<p>He was entertainment for us all. Good-looking, high-spirited, manly -fellow—in perfect unconsciousness of self, he talked on with the -genial freedom of a true man of the world.</p> - -<p>His trip to Williamsport was a fruitful theme, and no least event of -the journey was without its interest. He told us of the neighbors whom -he met on the road, and all of his conjectures regarding their probable -errands. He had taken a load of vegetables to town, and now recounted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> -every sale and purchase, for he had been charged with many commissions. -One was the purchase of braid for his wife's new dress. He was full of -good-humor at each fresh departure in his tale; but, for some reason, -the story of this last commission pleased him most. With high regard -for circumstantial detail, he told it to us at least five times, and -ended every narrative with a beaming smile, and the unvarying remark -that "I'd have got it wider if I'd only known," to which his wife -replied each time with unfaltering insistence upon the last word: "But -you might have known."</p> - -<p>In the morning he was as cheerful as on the night before, and he put me -in high spirits as, with many good wishes for my success, he told me -again how sure he was that I could find work in the woods.</p> - -<p>At Salladasburg I stopped for further directions about the way to -English Centre; and the tavern-keeper, at whose door I inquired, -confirmed me strongly in my expectation of ready employment.</p> - -<p>An old plank road lead me through a mountain-pass, and along the course -of a stream, far into the interior. The earlier miles of the march were -among mountains that had long been stripped of all valuable timber, and -that now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> stood ragged and uncouth in their new growths, and in the -blackened remnants of forest fires.</p> - -<p>Here there were a few scattered farms; stony and of thin soil, where, -for fences, uptorn stumps of trees had been placed side by side, with -their twisted roots so interwoven as to form an impenetrable barrier.</p> - -<p>A caravan of gypsies met and passed me; but except for these, the road -was almost deserted, and seemed to be leading into yet lonelier regions.</p> - -<p>Mountains now succeeded, on which the forests were untouched, and -which, in autumn colors, were like huge mounds of foliage plant, so -richly did the gorgeous hues of the maple-trees and chestnuts and -beeches blend with the dark greens of hemlock and pine.</p> - -<p>At a little after noon I came quite suddenly upon an iron bridge that -crossed the wide bed of a mountain-stream, which was little more than -a brook now, but gave evidence of rising, at times, to the volume -and strength of a torrent. A large tavern stood near the bridge, and -beyond it, to the right, was a huge tannery which plainly provided the -chief industry of the place. The village street was lined with rows of -wooden cottages, each an unpainted duplicate of its neighbor, and all -eloquent, I thought, of the monotony of the life which they held. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> - -<p>I went at once to the post-office, and there learned that my journey -was by no means at an end; for the lumber camps were yet some miles -farther in the mountains. The camp of "Wolf Bun" was mentioned as an -important one, where work was plenty, and I set out at once for that.</p> - -<p>I was tired and not a little hungry; for this mountain-air acts always -as a whet upon your appetite, and I had eaten nothing since the early -morning, and had already walked some fifteen miles. But the camp road, -although rough, was easy to follow, and I found much satisfaction in -dramatizing my approach to some short-handed employer, who would take -me on at once. I dwelt longingly on supper and a restful night and -Sunday in the camp, and thought hopefully of the work to be begun on -Monday morning.</p> - -<p>And then there was a peculiar interest in meeting lumbermen on the way. -Some were teamsters, who sat high in air on top of immense loads of -bark, which they were carting to the tannery. Many of these wore wide -sombreros, and jackets made of blanket stuff in gay plaids. Others were -on foot, small companies of four and five together, walking to the -village, for it was Saturday afternoon.</p> - -<p>I was prepared for some degree of roughness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> in a lumber camp, and in -the woodsmen themselves, but there was something in the appearance -of these men whom I met that hinted at my not having guessed all -the truth. I judged of roughness by what I knew of the gang at West -Point, and in the sewer ditch at the Asylum, but here was something -of a widely different kind from the hardness of broken-spirited, -time-serving laborers. Instinctively you knew these men for men; and -I respectfully kept silence, and looked to them for greeting, and got -none.</p> - -<p>When you, a total stranger, try to meet the questioning gaze of five -strong men at once, all of them sturdy and lean, and deeply lined in -face and keen of eye, there is bred in you a vague unease, not of fear, -but an answering to that wonder as to what you are and what you are -doing there. I was conscious then only of the disturbing of my earlier -confidence in entering the woods. I could not analyze the look which -met me, but now I know it for meaning, reft of its strongest words, -"Who in —— are you? Gospel sharks we know, and camp cooks, and honest -Jew pedlers who get our wages from us for their brass-gold watches and -glass jewels, but such a ——! ——! ——! ——! ——! ——! as you, we -never saw before."</p> - -<p>It was about the middle of the afternoon when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> a turn in the -mountain-road brought to view a cluster of log-cabins, which I knew to -be the camp of Wolf Run. The cabins were splendid buildings of their -kind. The logs were clean and fresh and were securely fitted, while the -chinks were well plastered with mud, and the roofs tightly shingled, -and the gables closely boarded-up.</p> - -<p>No one was in sight from where I stood; but there issued, from one of -the smaller cabins, the ring of a blacksmith's hammer, and I found a -group of men about the cabin-door.</p> - -<p>The camp stood in a little clearing on the mountain; and in contrast -with the shadowy gloom in the forest around it, the sunlight flooded -this open rift with concentrated light. The chestnut-trees on the edge -of the wood shone like burnished gold, and the maple leaves, still -green, nearest to the trees, and but lightly touched with red along the -boughs, deepened gradually, until, in the full sunlight, they blazed -in crimson splendor. It was still with the stillness of autumn, and -the sound of the blacksmith's stroke and the answering ring of the -anvil were echoed far into the forest, where you could hear, fretting -down its stony bed, a mountain-stream, which, in the speech of the -lumbermen, is called a "run." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> - -<p>I had slipped the pack from my back, and carrying it in my hand I went -up to a group of men. One of them stood leaning against the door-post. -He was very tall and straight, and under his wide sombrero, the upper -forehead was white and smooth as a girl's. The brows were arched above -dark-brown eyes, and his nose was straight and sharply chiselled; the -cheeks were lean and ruddy brown; and under a light mustache was a -clean-cut, shapely mouth that answered in strength to a well-rounded, -slightly protruding chin. His hands were thrust into the side-pockets -of a bright blanket jacket, and his dark trousers were tucked into a -pair of top-boots, that were laced over the insteps and up the outer -sides of the legs.</p> - -<p>All the men were eying me with that disturbing look; even the -blacksmith had quit his work and joined them. In the questioning -silence I summoned what courage I had, and walked up to young Achilles -at the cabin-door, and thus addressed him:</p> - -<p>"Is this the camp of Wolf Run?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Is Mr. Benton here?" [Benton is my version of the superintendent's -name.]</p> - -<p>"No, he's in English Centre." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Is the camp boss here?" [That was a rash plunge on my part, but it was -successful.]</p> - -<p>"Yes, that's him," and Achilles' head nodded slightly in the direction -of the largest cabin. From the door nearest us there stepped an elderly -man of massive frame, bent slightly forward, and with arms so long that -the hands seemed to reach to his knees. He was dressed in an old suit -of dark material—a long-tailed coat that fitted very loosely, and -baggy trousers—and a soiled linen shirt and collar, and a black ribbon -necktie. His face was very set and stern, not with an expression of -unkindness, simply the face of a man to whom life is a serious matter, -and who means business all the time.</p> - -<p>He was evidently absorbed, and, carrying an iron bar, he was about to -enter the forge with no least notice of any of us, when I interrupted -him.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, sir, I understand that you are the boss."</p> - -<p>He stood still, and looked down upon me out of keen black eyes from -under shaggy brows that bristled with coarse hairs; and in the -deepening silence, I wondered what I should say next.</p> - -<p>"I'm looking for a job, and I heard in English Centre that men were -wanted here." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Have you ever worked in the woods?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Then you'll not get work in the woods this side of hell."</p> - -<p>He moved on at once, and the blacksmith followed him into the shop. -I was left standing in the midst of the other men, who had listened -intently, and were now soberly enjoying the quality of that <i>bon mot</i>, -and were eyeing me in leisurely curiosity.</p> - -<p>Again I appealed to Achilles:</p> - -<p>"Is there another camp near here?"</p> - -<p>"There's Long's Camp, a quarter of a mile up the run," and a slight -inclination of his head indicated the way.</p> - -<p>Mr. Long did not want me, and knew of no one who might, if I was not -wanted at Wolf Run, unless, on second thought, I could get a job at -Fitz-Adams's Camp.</p> - -<p>"And where is that?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"You remember a road which forked to the left about two mile back as -you came up from English Centre?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Well, you follow that road about two mile and a half, and you'll come -to Fitz-Adams's Camp."</p> - -<p>The road was the roughest that I had so far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> travelled. It cut its -way along the sheer side of the mountain, following the course of the -run. Presently I came to a small log cabin, where, in a little yard -beside it, a cow was munching straw, and in front, a fat sow wallowed -in a pool in the middle of the road. An old Irishman, who sat on the -door-step, told me that I was not half a mile from the camp.</p> - -<p>There was a stout log dam on the run a little farther up, but the gates -were open and only a slender stream flowed through the muddy bottom, -for the dam was undergoing repairs. Near by was a cabin large enough -for a score of lumbermen.</p> - -<p>The sun had sunk behind the mountain a good half hour before; not even -the trees on the summits were lighted up with its setting rays, and the -still, clear air bit you with a sudden chill. All the confidence which -I had felt in the morning was gone; it was a very tired and hungry, a -sobered and a chastened proletaire, that at length caught sight, in the -gloom, of Fitz-Adams's Camp.</p> - -<p>It stood in a clearing like the camp of Wolf's Run. On the highest area -was a long, stout log cabin, to which there was given an added air of -security by an earth embankment, which sloped from the ground to the -lower logs all around the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> building, as a means of preventing the air -from sweeping under the floors. A door was in the end of the cabin -nearest me, and a window was cut in the boarded gable above. A wooden -block served as a step to the door, and near this a grindstone swung -in its frame. On the outer walls of the cabin were tacked some half -dozen advertisements on tin, bidding you, in black letters on an orange -background, "Chew——Cut." Over a rough bridge that crossed the run -near the cabin, I could faintly see one or two other smaller buildings -like it, which proved to be the blacksmith's shop, and the stable for -the teamsters' horses. The mountain-road continued its course past the -main cabin, and disappeared among the trees in the gorge. So narrow -was the ravine, that the mountain rose abruptly from one side of the -cabin, and in much the same manner from the bank of the run on the -opposite side, leaving a valley scarcely thirty yards in width. The -larger timber had been cut away, but the mountain-sides, all about the -clearing and the road, were dense with poplar, and white-barked birch -and chestnut, and the younger growths of evergreen.</p> - -<p>There was perfect quiet in the camp; not a living thing was to be seen -or heard. I went up to the nearest door, and knocked. There was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> -answer. I knocked again, and still there was no answer. At the side, -far to the rear, I found another door, and knocked there. It opened -instantly, and in the twilight I could faintly see a young woman in a -dark print dress.</p> - -<p>"Is this Fitz-Adams's Camp?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Is Mr. Fitz-Adams here?"</p> - -<p>And then in louder voice over her shoulder into the darkness behind her:</p> - -<p>"Say, Jim, here's a man that wants you."</p> - -<p>There was the sound of heavy footsteps upon the wooden floor, and in -another moment Fitz-Adams stood framed in the door-way.</p> - -<p>I was standing on the ground, quite two feet below, and looking up at -him in that uncertain light, he seemed to me gigantic. A great muscular -frame fairly filled the door. He was dressed in a suit of light-gray -corduroy, a flannel shirt, a dark felt hat, and top-boots, and I -could see that he was young and not unhandsome, although of a very -different type of good looks from those of Achilles. His large, round -head rested close upon a trunk that was massive yet quite splendidly -shapely, and highly suggestive of agility and strength. His face was -round, and the features full and of uncertain moulding, but you did not -miss the evidence of strength in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> his thick, firm lips and the clear, -unfaltering eyes with their expression of perfect unconsciousness of -self. He was plainly Irish, but quite as plainly of American birth, -which was clear when he spoke.</p> - -<p>"I'm looking for a job," I began, "and I've come to see whether I can -get one here."</p> - -<p>"Who sent you?"</p> - -<p>"They told me in Long's Camp that I might get a job here."</p> - -<p>"They didn't want you, and so they sent you to me, eh?"</p> - -<p>"They said that they didn't need more men there."</p> - -<p>"Oh, they did, did they? And you've worked in the woods before, I -suppose?"</p> - -<p>"No, but I have worked at other kinds of work, and if you'll give me a -chance you can see what I can do, and then you can discharge me if you -don't want me."</p> - -<p>"Well, there's lots of work in this camp, Buddy. I don't guess from the -cut of you and the way you talk, that you know much about it. But you -can stay, and I'll see what's in you on Monday. Look lively now, and -split some of that wood, and build a fire in the lobby."</p> - -<p>A pile of dry wood which had been sawed into lengths of two feet, lay -near the kitchen-door. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>On top of the pile was an axe; and as quickly -as I could, I split up an armful, and carried it around to the front of -the cabin and into the lobby. Near the centre of this room, which is -the loafing-place for the men, was an iron stove long enough to admit -the sticks which I had cut. It was the work of a minute to arrange -some chips in the bottom of the stove, and to pile the wood loosely on -top of these. I was about to touch a match to the finer stuff, when -Fitz-Adams appeared with a tin can in his hand. He bent over the stove, -and opening the door wide, he tossed in the contents of the can, and -the room was instantly full of a strong odor of kerosene.</p> - -<p>In another moment the fire was blazing like mad, and roaring up the -stove-pipe, and fast turning the old cracked stove red hot, but -Fitz-Adams stood by in perfect unconcern, and presently departed in the -direction of the kitchen.</p> - -<p>I began to look about me in the light that shone through the gleaming -cracks. Swift shadows were chasing one another over the walls and -ceiling, and I soon grew familiar with a room about twelve feet deep, -and which extended the width of the cabin. The floor was bare, and -was very damp with the Saturday's scrubbing, as were also the benches -which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> reached all round the walls. Besides the stove, the only piece -of furniture that the room contained was a heavy table, about four feet -square, which stood close to the benches in one corner, and directly -under the single window of the room, which was a small opening in the -logs, fitted with four panes of glass. A rough wooden staircase led -from the near corner through an opening in the ceiling to the loft; and -a door was cut through the thin board partition which separates the -lobby from the large room in the body of the cabin, where the men are -fed, and where I am writing now. The logs that formed the outer walls -of the room had been rough-hewn to a plane; and along these walls, on -two sides of the room, was a line of nails, on which hung coats and -hats and flannel shirts and overalls. On the partition-wall there was -nailed a small mirror with a little shelf below, on which lay a comb. -Near this were three wooden rollers, and over them as many towels, -large and coarse and fresh from the wash.</p> - -<p>I found a dry spot on the bench near the stove, and shoving my pack -under me, I sat down, facing the outer door, and awaited developments.</p> - -<p>It had grown quite dark Without. The young woman who met me at the -kitchen-door now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> came in with a small oil-lamp, which she placed on -the shelf near the mirror. I began to think that the men must all have -left the camp for Sunday, and my spirits rose at the thought of an easy -initiation into camp life. But I was soon roused from this revery by -the sound of many footsteps approaching the cabin, and the deep, gruff -voices of men.</p> - -<p>The wooden latch lifted, the heavy door swung open, and there came -trooping in a crew of fifteen lumbermen, all dripping water from their -hair and faces and hands, for they were fresh from the evening wash in -the run. They went first to the towels, and then formed in line for -their turns at the mirror, where the comb was passed from hand to hand.</p> - -<p>Fifteen pairs of wet, blinking eyes were fixed on me, and I was obliged -to meet each searching gaze in turn. But when this ordeal was passed, I -began to feel a little at my ease, for the men ignored me completely. -The air with which they turned away from the inspection seemed to say: -"There is something exceedingly irregular in there being in the camp so -abnormal a specimen as this, but the way in which to treat the case, at -least for the present, is to let it alone." It was precisely the manner -of well-bred men toward, let us say, some inharmonious figure in their -club,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> whose presence is for the moment unaccounted for.</p> - -<p>As they finished their preparation for supper, the men crowded about -the stove to warm their hands, chilled by the cold ablution. Chiefly -they talked shop about the day's work, but in terms that were often -unintelligible to me, and the sentences were surcharged with oaths. I -watched them with deep personal interest, and pictured myself in line, -and wondered whether I should ever be so fortunate as to find a clean, -dry section on a towel, or come early to the much-used comb.</p> - -<p>The last man had barely completed his toilet when the door in the -partition opened, and a woman's voice announced supper. Instantly there -was loud shuffling of heavy boots on the bare floor, and a momentary -press about the door, and then we were soon seated at one of the two -long tables in the mess-room of the cabin, and there arose a clatter of -hungry men feeding, and the hubbub of their talk.</p> - -<p>The meal was excellent. Its chief dish was corned beef and cabbage, and -there were boiled potatoes and boiled beans besides, with abundance of -home-made white bread, and strong hot tea.</p> - -<p>My seat was last in the row on one side of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> table. The end seat was -unoccupied, and my nearest neighbor ignored me; I was free to satisfy a -well-developed appetite, and grow more familiar with my surroundings.</p> - -<p>First of all I ate a very hearty supper. The food was admirably cooked, -and was served with a high degree of cleanness. The oil-cloth, of -marble design, which covered the table was spotless, and the rude, -coarse service, befitting a camp, had all been thoroughly washed. It -is true that the men were without their coats, most of them with their -waistcoats off, but these are men whose work is of the cleanest, and -there was nothing in all the setting of the supper to mar a healthy -appetite; there was much, I thought, that really heightened the -pleasure of eating.</p> - -<p>The conversation ran on as it had begun in the lobby. There was much -talk about the progress of the work, and gossip about neighboring -camps, and proposals for the disposing of Sunday; and it struck me with -swift terror that the presence of the three young women, who waited -on the table, was no least check to profanity. The talk never rose to -the pitch of excitement, it was the mere give and take of ordinary -conversation, and yet there mingled in it the blackest oaths. With a -curse of eternal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> perdition upon his lips, a man would speak to his -neighbor of some casual incident of the day, and would end his sentence -with a volley of nameless insults and hideous blasphemies. This was -their common language. With no realization of what they did, they flung -eternal curses and foul insults at one another in lightest banter.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later we had all returned to the lobby. The teamsters lit -their lanterns, and went to care for the horses. Some of the men went -up into the loft. Four had soon started a game of cards at the table, -while most of the others filled the bench near the stove, or drew empty -beer-kegs and old soap-boxes from their hiding, and completed the -circle around the fire. Everyone was smoking, and all seemed highly -content.</p> - -<p>I was crowded in between a lank young fellow with dark hair and eyes, -and a long, lean nose, who was swearing comfortably at a gawky youth -across the stove, and an older man, of heavier build, who had fine -black eyes and a black mustache, a very pale complexion, and long black -hair that lay in pasty ringlets about his face and on his neck.</p> - -<p>Soon I came to know these two as "Long-nosed Harry" and "Fred the -Barber." I should explain at once that the camps have a curious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> -nomenclature of their own. As among other workingmen whom I have known, -so here, only a man's Christian name is used, but it is nearly always -accompanied with an explanatory phrase. A new-comer in the camp is -called "Buddy" until his name is learned, and some appropriate epithet -is found, or until a nickname springs complete from the mysterious -source of those appellatives.</p> - -<p>I knew that Fred the Barber was making ready to speak to me, and I was -on my guard, when, while the talk was running high, I heard a voice -close to my ear:</p> - -<p>"Say, Buddy, you ain't a pedler, are you?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"I thought you warn't." And Fred the Barber settled farther down upon -his seat, and folded his arms, and puffed in silence on his pipe, with -the air of a man who finds deep satisfaction in his own sagacity. Soon -he returned to the cross-examination.</p> - -<p>"Say, Buddy, are you going to work in the woods?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, the boss took me on this evening."</p> - -<p>"Ain't you never worked in the woods before?" His pipe was out of his -mouth now, and his eyes shone with a livelier interest.</p> - -<p>"No." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How's that?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I'm working my way out West, and my money gave out in -Williamsport; and when I went looking for a job, I was told that I -could get work in the woods. So I came up here."</p> - -<p>"Well, you ain't struck a soft snap, Buddy. Jim the Boss is a square -man, but he can beat the devil at work, and he don't go easy on a new -hand. This is my tenth season in the woods, and I earn two dollars a -day right along; but I'm going to quit, it's too rough."</p> - -<p>There was a sudden commotion just then, for the outer door had opened -to the touch of a young woodsman, who, standing sharply defined against -the black night, regarded the company with a radiant smile. He was -the finest specimen of them all; not much over twenty, I should say, -and grown to a good six feet of height, and as straight as the trees -among which he worked. Through the covering of rough clothes you felt -with delight the curves of his splendid figure, and the sinewy muscles -in symmetrical development. And then the lines of his throat and neck -were so clean and strong, and his face charmed you with its fresh -beauty, and its expression of frank joyousness. No wonder that he was -a favorite in the camp. The men were rising from their seats, and the -air was full of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> welcome, while he stood there for a moment, his teeth -gleaming as he smiled, and his eyes shining with delight.</p> - -<div class="center"><a name="i216.jpg" id="i216.jpg"></a><img src="images/i216.jpg" alt="THE MEN WERE RISING FROM THEIR SEATS" /></div> - -<p class="bold">THE MEN WERE RISING FROM THEIR SEATS, AND THE AIR WAS -FULL OF WELCOME.</p> - -<p>There rose a tumult of loud voices:</p> - -<p>"I'm eternally lost, if it ain't Dick the Kid!" "Dickie, me boy, you -God-forsaken whelp, are ye drunk?" "You ain't spent it all in two days, -have you, Dick?" "Shut that lost door, and sit down by this condemned -fire, you ill-begotten cur, and eternal torment be your lot!" "Tell us -what hellish thing brings you here, you blessed boy, and why—ripe for -endless misery as you are—why ain't you in Williamsport?"</p> - -<p>The smile did not fade from Dick's face, as with easy deliberation -he took a seat on a beer-keg and looked at the crew with answering -affection in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"I'm forever lost if I've been to Williamsport," he began. "And I -ain't drunk a drop, you perjured hell-hounds of shameless begetting. -I've got all my reprobate stuff with me except the two God-condemned -dollars that it's cost me to live at the Temperance House in English -Centre, where you can get for a quarter the best meal that any of you -unveracious ones, you food for unquenchable fire, ever ate." </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> - -<p>God help us! it was like that, only a great deal worse, until the -blessed stillness of the night fell upon the camp.</p> - -<p>For an hour or more Dick the Kid sat talking to the other men. A -stranger in English Centre had fired his ambition for the lumber-camps -in the mountains somewhere in West Virginia, and Dick was freely -imparting his plans—how he meant to beat his way to Harrisburg and -then to Pittsburg, and so on to his destination, hoarding, the while, -his savings of about sixty-five dollars, as capital to launch him in a -new enterprise, where he was sure that more money could be made than -here.</p> - -<p>The men listened in rapt attention, knowing perfectly that Williamsport -was the destined end of Dick's journey, and that the dram-shops there -and brothels would get every dollar to the last; yet charmed by his -fresh enthusiasm, which touched a hidden memory, or gave momentary -flight to some new-fledged hope that fluttered in their breasts. He was -so young and strong and handsome, so full of life, so rich in native -gifts that win and hold affection with no thought of effort! One knew -it from the clear, keen joyance of the man, and the power which he -had to hold the others, and to draw out their hardy sympathy. I could -endure the sight no longer;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> I went out to the mountain-road, and -waited where I thought that Dick would pass.</p> - -<p>He was startled when I stopped him, and instinctively he clenched his -fists. For a moment I had a vivid sense of my physical insignificance, -as I realized how easily, with a single blow, he could smash in my -countenance and make swift end of me.</p> - -<p>"I'm a new man in the camp," I began. "The boss took me on this -evening. I was interested in what you said about going to West -Virginia, and I wanted to ask you more about it. Have you ever been -there?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"You are sure that there's a good chance for a man there?"</p> - -<p>"It's all straight, Buddy, if that's what you mean."</p> - -<p>I told him frankly what I meant, but he was still on his guard, and -presently he broke in abruptly with</p> - -<p>"Say, Buddy, you're a sky-pilot, ain't you?"</p> - -<p>We walked on together for a mile or more, and Dick grew friendly, and -I lost my heart to him completely. Only once Dick warmed a little at a -question from me. Perhaps I had no right to ask it upon so slight an -acquaintance; but as there was little prospect of my ever <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>seeing him -again, I asked him if he felt no sense of wrong in using lightly the -name of the Almighty.</p> - -<p>I can see him now as he stood against the blackness of the forest under -the clear, still stars, and answered me, with protest in his eyes and -in his voice:</p> - -<p>"By the Eternal, Buddy, I ain't swore for a month! May the Infinite -consign me to the tortures of all fiends, if I've swore for a month! -That? Oh, that ain't nothing; that's the way that us fellows talks. If -you live in the camp long enough, Buddy, you'll hear a man swear."</p> - -<p>His face was even more attractive in its expression of manly -seriousness when we stood on the roadside at parting, and he put a firm -hand on my shoulder, and fixed clear eyes on mine, as he told me, in -his frank, open way, that he wanted to make a man of himself and not -be a drunken sot, and that, in this new venture before him, he would -honestly try, and would ask for help.</p> - -<p>The men were going to bed when I got back to camp. I took my pack and -followed them into the loft, where I found three long rows of beds, -reaching nearly the length of the cabin. At my knock the boss came out -of his room, which is a lightly boarded-in corner of the loft,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> and -gave me a bed next to that occupied by "Old Man Toler."</p> - -<p>I had noticed Old Man Toler in the lobby as being markedly older than -most of the others. He was about fifty-five, I thought, of slender, -slightly stooping figure, and with gray hair. What had impressed me was -his exceedingly intelligent and agreeable face, and I had wondered at -sight of him as being apparently an ordinary hand in the crew. He gave -me a friendly greeting when the boss consigned me to his care, and then -resumed his conversation with a neighbor, while I made ready for bed.</p> - -<p>The beds are simple arrangements, admirably suited to the ends which -they serve. A mattress and a bolster stuffed with straw lie upon a -rough wooden frame without springs, and on top of these are four or -five thicknesses of coarse blankets and tow "comforters." The men -creep under as many strata of bed-clothing as their individual tastes -prompt in a given temperature. And the temperature varies in the loft -in nearly exact conformity with its variations out of doors, for the -boards in the gables have sprung apart, and there are rifts even -between the logs, and the winds sweep with much freedom from end to end -of our large bedroom.</p> - -<p>I soon became interested, too, in the varying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> tastes of the men in the -manner of their dress for bed. Some go so far on warmer nights as to -take off their boots and trousers, and even their coats and waistcoats. -Others stop at their boots and coats; and on the coolest nights not a -few go top-coated and booted to bed, and make a complete toilet in the -morning by putting on their hats.</p> - -<p>There was more than one surprise for me that night, in the considerate, -well-bred manners of the men; and the whole experience of my stay in -camp has only served to deepen my appreciation. Young Arthur met, at -Rugby, the fate which a merely casual acquaintance with Sunday-school -literature would lead one to imagine as being unfailingly in store -for those who prefer to maintain their private habits in the company -of unsympathetic associates. It will be remembered that Arthur -became, while kneeling at his bedside on the evening of his first -day at school, a target for boots and unkind remarks, until Tom -Brown interfered. Schools have improved since those days, and it has -been gratifying to observe that a like improvement has spread among -workingmen, even so far as to embrace the lumber-camps. The momentary -expectation of a boot in violent contact with one's head is not a -devotion-fostering emotion, and it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> was a distinct relief to find no -least objection offered to a course of conduct however out of keeping -with the customs of the place.</p> - -<p>There was another surprise in the comfort and the wholesome cleanliness -of my bed, notwithstanding its roughness. But in spite of physical -ease, I lay awake until after midnight, and when I slept at last, -troubled dreams pursued me; I awoke unrested, feeling sick at heart, -and little inclined to further acquaintance with a lumber camp.</p> - -<p>But the morning brought a glorious day, clear and much warmer than -Saturday; and after a late breakfast (seven o'clock) I took a book into -the forest, found a comfortable seat, and read until nightfall, with -time enough for dinner taken out.</p> - -<p>The men scattered widely soon after breakfast. Many visited neighboring -camps, or went shooting; some walked to English Centre; but it was a -perfectly sober crew that reassembled at the supper-table, and a much -cleaner-looking set than on the night before; for after breakfast, for -two hours or more, Fred the Barber had thriftily plied his trade.</p> - -<p>We all went early to bed. The men hailed the day's end as bringing -welcome relief in release from intolerable restraint. When it grew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> -too dark to read, and I had returned to the cabin, I found in the -lobby several of the men who had loafed about the camp all day. They -were in vicious humor. They fretted like children long shut in by the -rain. They could not sit still in comfort, and their restlessness grew -upon them as they waited for supper, and the movement of time was slow -torture; and so they swore at one another and at the other men who were -returning to the camp, and who seemed in but little better humor than -themselves.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VII</span> <span class="smaller">IN A LOGGING CAMP (<i>Concluded</i>)</span></h2> - -<p>I slept soundly that night, and was awakened in the morning by the -mad clatter of an alarm-clock. It was about four o'clock. I could -hear Fitz-Adams getting up in the little chamber which serves him as -a sleeping-room and an office. He went below, and soon had the fires -roaring fiercely in the kitchen and lobby; and I could hear him call -to the women to get up and get breakfast. Next he appeared in the -loft, and aroused the teamsters. In an incredibly short time they were -dressed, and had lit their lanterns, and were gone to the stable to -feed and tend their horses.</p> - -<p>I got up with them, and was nearly dressed, when the boss reappeared -in the loft. He walked down between the rows of beds, laying heavy -hands here and there upon sleeping figures, and raising his voice to -the call: "Come, roll out of this, you damn —— —— ——!" There was -no ill-temper in his manner or tone; it was simply his habitual way of -rousing the crew. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was first at the run, first at the towels and comb, and was sitting -in warm comfort behind the stove when the other men came shambling from -the loft, their eyes blinking in the sudden light of the lobby.</p> - -<p>We had beefsteak and potatoes and bread and coffee for breakfast. As -soon as he had finished his meal, I went up to the boss to remind him -of my existence, for he had in no way noticed me since Saturday night.</p> - -<p>"You'll help the teamsters load bark, Buddy. Have you got any gloves?"</p> - -<p>"No," I said.</p> - -<p>"Then come this way." We went together to the office, and he spread -before me a number of new pairs of heavy skin gloves.</p> - -<p>"I don't know which will be best suited to the work that you want me to -do," I said. "Won't you select a pair for me?"</p> - -<p>"My advice to you, Buddy, is to wear them mits," and he pointed to a -pair of white pigskin mittens. "They'll cost you seventy-five cents, -which I'll charge to your wages."</p> - -<p>There was a cot in the office, and a writing-desk, and in one corner a -small stock of woodsmen's furnishing goods: boots, hats, overalls, and -blanket-jackets, besides the gloves.</p> - -<p>The boss locked the door behind us, and told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> me to follow him. He -carried a lantern, and lit the way to the stables.</p> - -<p>Outside it was white and still, almost like a clear, quiet night in the -snows of midwinter; for a heavy frost covered everything, and in the -thin, unmoving air you could almost hear the crackling formation of -frost-crystals. Into the darkness of the forest the stars shone with -greater glory, and Orion was just sinking beyond the western mountain.</p> - -<p>The four or five teamsters and Old Man Toler and I had gathered in -front of the stable, where the bark-wagons stood in the open. These -were strong vehicles, each with four massive wheels, and they supported -wide-spreading frames within which three or more cords of bark could be -loaded.</p> - -<p>We "greased" the wagons by lantern-light, and then "hooked up" the -horses. The wagon in the van was driven by "Black Bob." Fitz-Adams -ordered Old Man Toler and me to go with that teamster and help him get -on a load of bark.</p> - -<p>Black Bob, muffled to the eyes in a long ulster which was bound about -his waist with a piece of rope, stood erect on the loose boards that -formed the floor of his wagon, and gathered up the reins, and then -started his horses with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> ringing oath. Old Man Toler and I followed -after, on foot, up a rocky road that had been newly cut to a point on -the mountain where strips of hemlock-bark lay piled like cord-wood.</p> - -<p>Black Bob swayed to the jolting of the wagon, but kept his balance -with the ease of long habit, and swore a running accompaniment to the -tugging of his team. He was the tallest man in the camp, almost a giant -in height and in proportional development, and he owed his name to his -blue-black hair and swarthy complexion. He was a native-born American, -and, although he seemed never to discriminate among the other men on -grounds of nationality, I thought that some of them did not like him -because of a certain domineering manner he had.</p> - -<p>He drew up now beside a pile of bark, and Toler and I placed a large -stone under each hind wheel to relieve the pull on the horses.</p> - -<p>It had been growing light as we climbed the mountain, and now we could -see the sunlight on the topmost trees across the ravine.</p> - -<p>Toler took up a position facing the bark-pile, with his back to the -wagon. He began to pass swiftly the pieces of bark over his head and -into the rigging, where Black Bob stood ready to load. I followed -Toler's example, imitating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> his movements as closely as I could, but -was painfully aware of my awkwardness.</p> - -<p>We had been but a few minutes at work when the boss came driving up -behind us; as he turned out in order to pass, he called to me to come -with him, and lend a hand at loading.</p> - -<p>I had an uncomfortable premonition of the ordeal before me; why, I do -not know, for the boss had treated me civilly so far; but I greatly -wished to stay in the camp, and I much feared discharge.</p> - -<p>The boss drove on for some distance, then branched off on a side-road, -and having passed a number of bark-piles, finally turned around with -great difficulty, and drew up, as Black Bob had done, beside a cord of -bark.</p> - -<p>I hastened to place a stone under a hind wheel, and then threw off my -coat, and, getting in between the wagon and the pile, I began to pass -the bark over my head, as I had learned to do from Toler.</p> - -<p>The boss stood on the bottom of the rig, accepting listlessly the bark -as I passed it, and tossing it carelessly into place. His whole manner -was meant to convey to me the idea of my own inefficiency, as though he -was ready to work, even anxious to get warmed up in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> frosty air, -but my part was so slowly done that his own was reduced to child's play.</p> - -<p>The storm brewed for a time in grim silence, but soon it broke into -angry shouts of "Faster, faster, damn you!" and then the entire gamut -of insults and excommunications.</p> - -<p>I had been cursed at West Point, though in terms less hard to bear; and -in expectation of the worst, I thought that I had schooled myself to -take it philosophically when it came. But I had an awful moment now, -for philosophy was clean gone, and in its place was a swift, mad desire -to kill; and as the hot blood rushed to my brain, and tingled in my -finger-tips, all that I could see for the instant were the handy stones -under my feet, and the close range of Fitz-Adams's head.</p> - -<p>I do not know what it was that saved me, unless it was the sight of -Fitz-Adams flushed with the anger into which he lashed himself, and -becoming the more ludicrously impotent in his rage, as I restrained -my temper, and showed no sign of fear. Why he did not discharge me on -the spot I do not know. With awful imprecations he kept urging me to -faster and yet faster work. I quickened my clumsy pace to the swiftest -that I could maintain with efficiency, and held it there, careless of -his curses; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> exhausted as I was, I yet had the satisfaction at the -last of noting that our load was on as quickly as was Black Bob's.</p> - -<p>And Fitz-Adams, too, found a curious balm for his troubled feelings. -We were at the last cord, and he was cursing hard, while I panted and -sweated in my straining efforts to pass the bark aboard. The strips -were large and heavy, some of them, and they all lay rough side up; -and as you lifted them over your head there fell upon you from each a -shower of dust and dirt that had gathered in the crumbling outer bark. -This filled your ears and hair, and found its way far down your back. I -had blocked the wheel, but we were on a sharp descent, and the load was -growing heavy. Evidently Fitz-Adams feared our breaking loose, and so -he stopped me suddenly with an order to "make fast the lock-break." Now -"the lock-break" conveyed the dimmest notion to my mind, and the boss -would give no hint as to what it really was nor how it was to be "made -fast;" instead, he stood and watched me, while, with awkward guesses as -to its purpose, I succeeded in unhooking one end of a heavy chain that -hung under the wagon, and having passed it between two spokes of a hind -wheel, I clumsily made fast the hook in a link of the chain drawn taut.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> - - -<p>Fitz-Adams stood, meanwhile, in speechless anger, enraged beyond relief -from oaths; and then the tension broke, with comical effect, in a -sentence which seemed to come to him as a happy inspiration:</p> - -<p>"I'm damned, Buddy, if you ain't greener than a green Irishman; -<i>greener than a green Irishman</i>." He repeated the phrase as though it -exactly met the case, and brought him satisfaction far beyond the power -of profanity; and then he shouted through the forest:</p> - -<p>"Hey, Bob!"</p> - -<p>"Hello!"</p> - -<p>"This Buddy, he's greener than a green Irishman!" and he laughed aloud, -and there came an answering laugh from Bob; and the boss started down -the mountain with his load, the locked wheel bounding and crunching -among the stones, while he swore to steady the horses.</p> - -<p>That was all of the loading for the morning, so Toler and I joined -company. Toler had in charge the cutting of roads to the bark-piles, -and I was to serve with him.</p> - -<p>The piles were, some of them, in most inaccessible places. The -hemlock-trees on that side of the mountain had first been felled, then -the bark was cut round on the trunks at intervals of four feet. Next -the bark was peeled off and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> carefully heaped near by, while the trees -themselves were trimmed and then sawed into logs of desired lengths, -and these were "skidded" into piles. From the piles, in the spring, -when the streams are high, the logs are sent by "skid ways" into the -run, and, once in the water, the lumbermen use their finest skill in -floating them to the market at Williamsport.</p> - -<p>In the meanwhile the bark must be got out and carted to the tannery, -and Toler and I had our work laid out in cutting ways for the wagons.</p> - -<p>Supplied each with an axe, a cant-hook, and a grabbing-hoe, we began -the work of cutting through the brushwood and clearing away the stumps, -and laying rough bridges over the small streams.</p> - -<p>I was delighted at my good fortune in being set to work under Toler. -My respect for him grew steadily. An experience of nearly forty years -as a woodsman had developed his natural gifts to the point of highest -skill, and he had a marvellous instinct for directing a course through -the maze of tangled undergrowth and logs and stumps which marked -the ruins of the forest. I was soon lost, but he turned hither and -thither, with the ready familiarity of a gamin to whom there are no -intricacies in the East End. He had the inspiring air of knowing what -he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> about, and the less common possession of actual knowledge, and -he did his work in a masterly manner. "A workman that needeth not to -be ashamed" constantly recurred to me as a phrase which aptly fitted -him. And besides being a clever woodsman, Toler was clean of speech, -that is, comparatively clean of speech—he swore, but his oaths were -conventional and not usually of the blood-congealing kind of some of -the other men.</p> - -<p>That was a long morning's work, from earliest dawn until noon, and the -ultimate advent of the dinner-hour was hugely welcome. Toler and I -knocked off work at the sound of the noon whistle at the tannery four -or five miles away. Only a few of us gathered at the camp. Fitz-Adams, -with the other teamsters, and "Sam the Book-keeper," who is also the -camp carpenter, and Toler and I made up the number. The rest of the -crew were too far in the mountains to return at midday, and "Tim the -Blacksmith" drove off in the buckboard with a hot dinner for them.</p> - -<p>The first work of the afternoon was to help the teamsters get on a -second load of bark. Again the boss forced me to his aid, and cursed -me as he had done before, only I thought that he had been drinking, -and there was certainly an added viciousness in his oaths, and in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> -threats of sudden death. But I had the consolation now of knowing that, -as soon as the load was on, I should work with Toler for the rest of -the day. Toler did not curse me, although it was impossible for him -to wholly conceal the slender regard in which he held a man who never -before had seen a grubbing-hoe, nor a cant-hook, and who handled an axe -about as effectively as a girl throws a stone, and to whom the woods -were a hopeless labyrinth. But Toler had the instincts of a gentleman; -for all his want of respect for a man so ignorant as I, it was clear -that there was not a little patient compassion in the feeling which he -bore me, and he was at pains to teach me, and he eagerly encouraged any -sign of improvement on my part.</p> - -<p>But this time I was not done with Fitz-Adams when the afternoon's load -was on. Toler and I soon needed a crowbar, and he sent me to fetch one -from the blacksmith's shop.</p> - -<p>Near the shop there is a depression in the road, and there the soil is -somewhat soft. Much noise was coming from that quarter; and as I neared -it I could see that Black Bob's wheels were fast in the mud, and that -the boss's load was drawn close up behind and blocked.</p> - -<p>Black Bob was on the ground beside his team, his reins in hand, and -with frantic oaths he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> urging his horses to their utmost strength. -Fitz-Adams stood by and watched; but at sight of the weakening brutes, -he quickly unbolted his own whiffle-trees, and driving his team ahead, -made fast to the tongue of Black Bob's wagon. Then both together they -started up their horses, lashing them with the far-reaching leather -thongs that swung from the short stocks which they carried, and joining -in a chorus of furious curses. Slowly the great wheels began to rise -from the deep grooves in which they had settled; but in another minute, -as the strength of the horses failed, the wheels sunk surely back -again. Fitz-Adams was beside himself with rage, and at that moment he -caught sight of me.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing here?" he shouted with an oath.</p> - -<p>"Toler sent me for a crowbar."</p> - -<p>"He did, did he? Then I'll send you to hell!" and with that he seized -an axe which lay near, and swinging it above his head, he rushed at -me. It was a menacing figure that he made, with the axe held aloft by -his giant arms, his eyes flashing, and his nostrils dilating with the -childish passion which mastered him; but he was as harmless as a child -at any show of fearlessness, and there was the oddest anticlimax in his -mild command to "get that damn crowbar and hurry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> back to Toler," which -I was glad enough to do; for my part was a mere pretence of courage; -in reality I felt scared out of a year's growth, and my legs were -trembling violently.</p> - -<p>Through the following days there was little variation for Toler and me -in the programme of work. We loaded bark until the teamsters were off, -and then cut ways to the piles.</p> - -<p>There is, however, an incident of Tuesday morning which will linger in -my memory. It was the fulfilment of Dick the Kid's prophecy. I heard a -man swear.</p> - -<p>The boss anticipated the usual time of the morning cursing, and gave me -an initial one that day in the dark in front of the stables, while the -teamsters stood by with their lanterns in hand, and listened critically -with sober faces, as though they were determining, with a nice sense of -the possible, whether Fitz-Adams was doing himself justice. At the last -he turned to them:</p> - -<p>"Will I kill him now, or let him live one day more?"</p> - -<p>"Let the damn dog live," came from Black Bob.</p> - -<p>"Then you'll take him," said the boss, "and dray out that bar." So -Black Bob and I set off in company.</p> - -<p>I was not a little perplexed by the puerility<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> of Fitz-Adams's rage. -It seemed singularly out of keeping with the sturdy manliness of the -fellow. If he wished to get rid of me, why did he not discharge me? I -began to suspect that the cause lay in tenderness of heart, of which -he was secretly ashamed. To him I was <i>avis rara</i> in a lumber-camp. No -doubt he thought me some hitherto unknown species of immigrant; and -being too tender-hearted to assume the responsibility of turning me -adrift, he hoped to frighten me away. Black Bob soon puzzled me almost -as much. He was driving the dray, which is a rude, low sledge, used -to draw out bark from points that are inaccessible to the wagons. We -were walking together at the side of the road, and neither of us spoke. -Presently Bob stopped his horses to give them breath, and then he -turned to me. His speech was halting, and there was an uncomfortable, -apologetic quality in his voice, but the feeling was evidently sincere. -To my surprise he was bidding me, with utmost kindness, not to mind -Fitz-Adams's curses, and he added that the boss meant nothing by -them, that he really knew no better. It seemed to me an act of truest -friendliness on Black Bob's part, involving charity and moral courage -of high order, and I was far more grateful than my acknowledgment -implied. It produced a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>comfortable elation, which lasted while we got -on a towering load of bark in silence in the earliest dawn, and started -for the road. We had almost reached it, and the horses were pulling -hard, when, with the suddenness of a pistol-shot, the dray came sharply -against the stump of a stubborn sapling that rose unseen in the way, -and in an instant the horses were plunging forward in broken harness, -and half the load was sliding gently to the ground.</p> - -<p>Black Bob brought the horses to a stand, and then stood still himself. -I was filled with admiration for his self-control, for I dreamt that -he was making a successful effort to restrain himself. In reality he -was summoning all his powers; and in another moment, with face uplifted -to the pale stars, he broke forth in blasphemies so hellish, that for -the next full minute I might have been listening to the outcries of a -tormented fiend, held tight in the grip of remorseless agony.</p> - -<p>Thursday morning brought the crisis in the history of my stay in camp. -In the course of the midday cursing of the day before, Fitz-Adams -told me that he was giving me my last chance. I tried hard to show my -fitness for the place, and our load was the first to start for the -tannery; but to all appearances Fitz-Adams<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> was not placated. I thought -that the last hour of my stay in camp was surely come, and with a -heavy heart I began to plan the next move. But for some reason nothing -further was said to me about leaving, and Thursday morning found me -again helping the boss.</p> - -<p>His mood had strangely changed; it was very early, and the skies were -overcast, and in the clouded twilight we could scarcely see to do our -work. Fitz-Adams seemed to be in no hurry; he was silent, and moved -nervously. I wondered what this might portend, and braced myself for -finality. It was very hard. I was learning to know the men; they -ignored me still, but I was sure that I understood them better, and my -liking for them grew each day, and earnestly I wished to stay, in the -hope of winning a footing in the camp, and some terms of fellowship -with the men.</p> - -<p>Fitz-Adams had stopped working now, and he stood leaning on the rigging -as he spoke to me. There was a mildness in his tone and a tentative -expectancy, as though an uncomfortable suspicion had dawned upon him, -and he feared to verify it.</p> - -<p>"Say, Buddy, have you ever been to school?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said.</p> - -<p>There was silence for a minute, and the tone in which Fitz-Adams broke -it was awestruck. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Say, Buddy, have you got a education?"</p> - -<p>"I've had good advantages."</p> - -<p>And then eagerly from him:</p> - -<p>"Major, can you figure?"</p> - -<p>It was my inning now, and I liked it, and I was guilty of saying that, -within narrow limits, I could.</p> - -<p>"Will you do my accounts for me, Major?"</p> - -<p>"I will, with pleasure."</p> - -<p>Fitz-Adams drew a deep breath, and his voice fell to a lower tone.</p> - -<p>"Well, that'll be a good thing for me. I never had no schooling, and -Sam the Book-keeper, he don't seem to know much more'n me. I guess I -lost pretty nigh on to two thousand dollars on my contracts last year, -on account of not knowing how to figure. Say, Major, this is pretty -hard work for you; you suit yourself about this work, and help me with -the accounts. Of course, I—I—I—didn't know——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, drop it, Fitz-Adams!" I said. "We understand each other. I'll be -glad to look after the accounts as long as I stay; but it's growing -light now, and let's get on this load."</p> - -<p>And so I won a place in the camp, and got myself on human terms with -the boss. Fitz-Adams never referred to the matter again, but treated me -in a perfectly manly, straightforward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> way, taking patiently my clumsy -work as a woodsman, and accepting, as a matter of course, my help with -the accounts, and even consulting me, at times, in certain details -of the work. It was one of these consultations which brought a rare -opportunity.</p> - -<p>I had won my way with the boss, not by virtue of an education, but -actually upon the basis of an acquaintance with elementary arithmetic. -When I came to look at the accounts, it was not a question of -book-keeping that was involved, but simple addition and multiplication -and division, in all of which branches both Fitz-Adams and Sam the -Book-keeper were lamentably weak, so weak, in fact, that they felt no -real confidence in their results.</p> - -<p>But my way with the men was yet to make. They were not uncivil, -but they would none of me. To them I was still an outsider, "an -inharmonious figure in their club," and, whatever may have been the -change in my relations with the boss, the men were in no way bound to -recognize me.</p> - -<p>One morning Fitz-Adams and I stood together in his rig, as he was -driving up the "corduroy road" to the place on the mountain where the -crew were at work. Presently he pointed out to me, about forty yards up -the steep ascent no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> our left, some long, straggling piles of bark that -perched there, like peasants' huts over a precipice in the Alps.</p> - -<p>"I don't know how to go at that bark," he said with a frown. "You can't -get a wagon there, nor yet a dray; and it's so brittle that if you -slide it down, you'll have nothing but chips to cart to the tannery, -and the man that tries to carry it down—well, it's a three or four -days' job, and he'll have his neck broke sure."</p> - -<p>I said that I would look at it. I was "piling bark" now on my own -account, and Toler had another "Buddy," a big, bouncing Irish Hercules, -who had lately come to camp, and who soon won distinction by reason of -the songs he sung. They were wonderful songs; long beyond belief, and -they told the loves and woes of truly wonderful people.</p> - -<p>Buddy had early made known his talent, and on his first evening in camp -he was peremptorily told to sing. It was after supper. He was sitting, -much at home, on the bench behind the stove, and was smoking. Instantly -he took his pipe from his mouth, and cleared his throat; then, laying -his hands on his knees, he sang, swaying meanwhile in time with the -monotonous cadences of that strange verse, which went on and on and -on for quite half an hour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> while the men listened open-eyed, and -punctuated the sentiment with profane approval.</p> - -<p>When I examined the bark-piles I found that transferring them to the -"corduroy road" below was a matter of carrying the bark in small loads -on one's back, and of having a secure footing for the descent.</p> - -<p>On the next morning I took a pick and spade, and first cut a series of -steps to the ledge where the bark lay piled. After a little practice, I -learned to make up a load, by selecting a broad, stout slab of bark and -packing the smaller pieces upon it. Then stooping under the load, as -it lay ready on the edge of a pile, I easily shifted it to my back and -head; and holding it with one hand, while the other was free to help -maintain my balance, I carefully picked a way down the steep decline.</p> - -<p>It probably appeared a far more difficult and dangerous feat than -it really was; and with a load of bark upon my back, I was more -than ever an outlandish figure to the men, more in keeping with the -Königsstuhl and the valley of the Neckar than with Fitz-Adams's Camp in -the Alleghanies. But the actual accomplishment of the work seemed to -interest them, and the teamsters used to stop and watch me in silence, -and then drive off, swearing in low tones. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> - -<p>One evening the whole returning crew caught me at the job. The men -stood still, and having watched a descent, they examined the bark piled -high at the roadside, and then walked on, commenting among themselves. -That night in Camp several of them spoke to me, calling me "Major" -after Fitz-Adams's manner.</p> - -<p>It was the beginning of more personal acquaintance with the men. I -can but like them. In the fortnight and more of my stay I cannot lay -claim to having got on intimate terms with them. But they seem to me a -truthful, high-spirited, hard-working, generous set of men. They swear -like fiends incarnate, and when they can, they drink, and they all have -"rogued and ranged in their time." On grounds of high morality there is -no possible justification for them. But these are men who were born and -bred to vicious living; and the wonder is not that they are bad, but -that in all their blasting departure from the good, there yet survives -in them the vital power of return.</p> - -<p>There is Old Man Toler. He is certainly an exception in point of birth -and earliest breeding, but he has been in the lumber business more -or less, he tells me, since he was a boy of fourteen. There was one -important period taken out, when, as a young man, he enlisted, and -served in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> Army of the Potomac, from the spring of 1862 until -the end of the Civil War. He is native-born, and has the intelligent -patriotism of a true American. In our walks together to and from our -work, I delighted in his talk about the war period in his life. His -perspective as a private soldier was so true, so thoroughly free from -the towering obtrusion of his own experiences. These were almost lost -in his absorbing interest in the working out of great events. He -knew the war thoroughly from the point of view of the army. He knew -the service, and had borne his part in hardship and in action with a -distinct sense of personal responsibility to the subject and aim of it -all. This was luminous in what he said, and never from his declaration -of it, but in the absence of such declaration, and in the loss of self -in the large action of which he felt himself a part.</p> - -<p>There was much in Toler that rang true, and I regretted the more -that he evidently preferred to talk little about himself, and almost -never of his personal views. My wonder at his being a common hand -in camp grew, until one day, in talking with Black Bob, I learned a -reason. Black Bob, quite of his own accord, had instituted a series of -comparisons among the men.</p> - -<p>"There's Fitz-Adams and his brother," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> was saying, "they're about -as good a pair of lumbermen as you'll find. But they ain't the best in -this camp. There's a man here that knows more about this business than -any three other men, and that's Old Man Toler. His father was a big -lumberman before him, and Toler was brought up thorough to the work, -and he's had many a camp of his own, and made lots of money in his -time. But he ain't ever kept none, and he never will." And Black Bob -winked significantly, and ostentatiously wiped his mouth.</p> - -<p>There is an "old soldier" of quite another type in camp. It is Sam the -Book-keeper. Work on the accounts has brought me into close relations -with Sam. He is a large, good-humored, fair-haired and ruddy-faced -American, who by no means shows his more than fifty years. It is -pathetic to watch his struggles with the lines of figures, as he tries -to add them up; and the situation is really serious, for almost never -can he get the same result twice.</p> - -<p>He and I were working one evening in the office, and had straightened -matters out to a certain point. Sam was in high spirits as a result. -He wished to talk. There was a handy explanation of his ignorance of -figures, and he wanted me to know it. He chiefly played truant from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> -school, he said, when he was a boy at home on his father's farm; and -at the age of eleven he ran away for good, allured by the fascination -of life on a canal-boat; and ever since that time he had shifted for -himself.</p> - -<p>And now Sam was fairly started in his history; but the narrative leaped -suddenly to his career as a soldier. His war experiences included the -battle of Bull Run and the capture of Savannah. Sam's knowledge of -campaigns was not exhaustive, and his most vivid memories of historic -events were all of a personal nature, which is certainly not unnatural.</p> - -<p>From his own frank statement, he seems to have been among the first -to leave the field at Bull Run. With another member of his company he -reached Washington, rather worn and dusty, but really none the worse -for a cross-country sprint.</p> - -<p>Once in the city, they were soon hailed by an acquaintance, who took -them in hand with the remark that "he knew just the thing for them."</p> - -<p>They were simply to follow him to Pennsylvania Avenue, and obey his -directions. His first was that they should limp, and they limped; and -he led them, limping, to certain rooms on the avenue, where thoughtful -preparation had been made for the care of the wounded. Here they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> were -received with marked attention, and after having been asked as to -whether they were "just from the front," and to which regiment they -belonged, they were put in the care of certain volunteer nurses. These -ladies, with their own hands, bared the soldiers' feet, and washed -them, and then dressed them in clean socks and comfortable slippers, -which the men were to wear until quite well again. At this refuge Sam -and his companion, and many another soldier "from the front," were -given bed and board as long as they found it convenient to remain.</p> - -<p>With cheerful appreciation of the humor of it, Sam described the -labored way in which his partner and he would limp down the avenue each -morning, until they had turned a corner; and then, instantly restored -to perfect soundness, they would make for the nearest saloon. They -played this game until their cash was gone; then they felt compelled to -rejoin their regiment, which was encamped near Arlington.</p> - -<p>That was the beginning of Sam's career as a soldier. It ended at -Savannah. After the capture of the city, and as General Sherman's army -was setting out on the march to Richmond, Sam found himself one of a -squad ordered to remain behind, for the purpose of assisting the United -States Excise Officers. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> - -<p>The men had quarters in a large stone building, which was given over -entirely to their use. The work was much to their taste. Every day they -shrewdly searched the city for contraband liquor, and not infrequently -they unearthed a den where kegs of whiskey were concealed. Some of -these they always smuggled to their own quarters, and the rest they -handed over to the excise officers. Orgies that were fired with -unfailing rum consumed the greater part of every night, and formed an -epoch in Sam's history upon which he reflects with lasting satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Most of the men in camp are younger than Old Man Toler and Sam the -Book-keeper, and of the younger set I have made the acquaintance -of "Long-nosed Harry." Harry is barely thirty and already a man of -considerable experience. When fairly started, he can tell capital tales -of how he has "beat his way" on long journeys through the country, and -of narrow escapes from the "cops," and of other occasions when he has -not escaped. Wherever in this country the railways have penetrated, -Harry seems to have gone, and he has gathered on his wanderings a fund -of curious information, as though there were a nether side of things, -and he had grown familiar with that in contrast with the surface that -is exposed to the eye of the ordinary traveller. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> - -<p>Harry's face confirms his account of a career not unfamiliar with -the police. A long thin face it is, with small dark eyes set close -together, a narrow, thin-lipped mouth, a receding chin, and an -abnormally long nose, which has gained nothing in point of beauty by -having been broken in a fight with a negro at Atlantic City.</p> - -<p>He is of glib speech, and he has at command a long repertory of songs -of the vaudeville variety, and this enhances his standing among the -men. Besides, Harry can read aloud, as I learned one day when a stray -newspaper found its way into the camp. He read with a certain swift -readiness that held your interest, and you soon grew excited in an -effort to recognize old acquaintances in the strangely accented longer -words, which were plainly unintelligible to Harry and his hearers, -while yet the general sense of what was read was obviously clear.</p> - -<p>Harry and I sat talking together one Sunday evening. We had a corner -of the lobby to ourselves. Suddenly, without apparent connection with -what we had been saying, he gave me one of those rare confidences -which reveal, as by a flash of supernatural light, the very heart of a -man's life, and then leave you awed and speechless, in the presence of -eternal verities.</p> - -<p>It was a fragment of personal history, very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> short, and it was told -with the directness and simplicity of truth itself. He had been married -six years before. His wife was a delicate girl who lived for only two -years after Harry married her. He was a brakeman on a freight-train -then. He used to look forward to his "off-day" with a feeling, he said, -that "made life worth living." And they were convenient, too, those -"off-days"; for in them he did the washing, and the scrubbing, and -whatever else of accumulated housework he could spare his wife. But she -died. And there was nothing more in life for Harry; so he drifted back -into the old way, the way of all the men, a life of alternate work and -debauch.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * * *</p> - -<p>"Karl the Swede" is the only Scandinavian in the crew, which, like -the other gangs of workmen which I have known, is exceedingly -heterogeneous in character. There is nothing remarkable about Karl. -He is a fair-haired, blue-eyed, stocky youth of one-and-twenty, and -as hard-drinking, hard-working a woodsman as any of them. But Karl -happens to be the only man who, during my stay in camp, has met with -an accident. It was yesterday morning. The men were trimming logs, -and "skidding" them at a point on the mountain a mile or more from -camp,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> and I was piling bark not far from the "skid-ways." At a little -before noon I heard the buckboard go jolting over the bowlders on the -mountain-road; and a few minutes later there rang through the forest -Fitz-Adams's call to dinner.</p> - -<p>I set out for the nearest skid-way, where the men were gathering, when -suddenly I came upon Karl lying at length in a clump of myrtle, with -one foot extended upon a rock, and bare, except for a woollen sock that -was bound tightly around the instep. What had happened was clear in an -instant. The sock was saturated with blood, and a dark, clotted stream -stained the foot, and a pool of blood had formed on the surface of the -rock. I sat down beside him, and Karl first showed me in his boot a -clean cut three inches long, where the axe-blade had entered. Then he -unwrapped the sock, and lifting from the wound a quid of pulpy tobacco, -he exposed a gash where the skin and shallow flesh lay open to the -bone. The flow of blood had nearly ceased, for the tobacco had acted -as a styptic; and Karl quickly reapplied it, and again bound the wound -tightly with his sock.</p> - -<p>All the while he acted in a perfectly impersonal manner, as though he -were in no way directly concerned in the accident, which was simply -a phenomenon of common interest to us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> both. He betrayed no trace -of suffering nor even of annoyance at the discomfort of the mishap; -and soon he began to speak of it, in his broken English, with like -impersonality.</p> - -<p>"Fitz-Adams, you know, would take him to camp in the buckboard after -dinner, and would see that he got safe to English Centre, where the -doctor would dress the wound. That would do very well until he reached -Williamsport; but he must go to Williamsport, and that was the worst of -it; for it would be several weeks before he could get back to camp, and -then, between drunks and the doctor's bills, his savings would be all -gone."</p> - -<p>This taken-for-granted attitude toward riotous living is strikingly -characteristic. I have noticed it repeatedly among the men. They -speak of past and prospective debauches with the <i>naïveté</i> of callow -undergraduates, except that among the lumbermen there is no sense of -credit or distinction attaching to vice; it is simply inherent in the -order of things. This is by no means a professed creed. Profession, -when there is any, is all in the other direction, and is of the nature -of the "homage that vice pays to virtue." It is simply in the natural -and unpremeditated speech and action of the men that you detect this -attitude of mind. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> - -<p>The time spent at the camp is, in one aspect of it, a course of -training, a cumulative storage of energy, financial and physical, -against a future expenditure in the sudden outburst of a grand carouse.</p> - -<p>It has been interesting to notice what have appeared to be the -instinctive precautions of the men. There seems to be an established -custom of great strength that prohibits the keeping of spirits in -camp. And gambling is strangely infrequent. I have heard hints of -memorable epochs, when, like an epidemic, gambling has swept the camp -with fearful force, and there is a wholesome fear of its return. I -was struck with this one night, when, without apparent warning, the -customary "High, Low, Jack and the Game" gave place to poker, and an -excited crowd stood round the table and watched; and Fitz-Adams had to -go up to the office to bring down wages due to the players. But the -outbreak spent itself without becoming epidemic this time, and you -could feel the relief among the men when "Phil the Farmer" and "Irish -Mike" agreed to stand their loss of about ten dollars each, and not -continue the game.</p> - -<p>"High, Low, Jack" is invariable after supper, and lends itself with -singular sociability to the pleasure of the men. There is but one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> pack -of cards, and only one table in the lobby. A four-handed game is begun -immediately after supper, the opposite men playing partners. A game is -not long; and at its end the beaten partners give place to a new pair, -and this course continues until all the members of the crew have had a -hand.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * * *</p> - -<p>In looking over this chapter I see that I have drawn a very inadequate -picture of Fitz-Adams. A hard swearer he certainly is, but Black Bob -was right in assuring me that there is more ignorance than malice in -his habitual maledictions.</p> - -<p>First of all, Fitz-Adams is an admirable workman. To any department of -the work of lumbermen he can lend a hand of highest efficiency. And -his, in a marked degree, are the manual skill and resourceful ingenuity -which are characteristic of the men. Only Fitz-Adams is exceptional in -these particulars, like Old Man Toler. With them this manual skill, for -instance, is like the sure touch of a master handicraftsman.</p> - -<p>One morning, while at work with Old Man Toler, I openly admired his -handling of an axe. Toler was standing on a log which obstructed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> our -way, and which he was about to cut in two. He drew the axe-blade up the -side of the log between his feet. "Do you see that scratch?" he said, -and then he swung the axe above his head, and brought it down with a -sweeping stroke. The blade entered the bark exactly where the scratch -had been. Five times running, Toler performed this feat, never missing -his mark by the fraction of an inch, and then he turned to me. "I've -used an axe so long, Buddy," he said, "that I can split hairs with a -good one now."</p> - -<p>But even more than a thorough woodsman, Fitz-Adams is a superb -overseer. Under his shrewd foresight and direction, the whole work of -the crew is urged forward with resistless energy. He knows exactly what -each man is doing, and whether or not the work is well done.</p> - -<p>His planning of the work and his effective organizing and directing -toward its accomplishment are, no doubt, his strongest points; but -dramatically considered, although he is perfectly unconscious of the -effect, he shows to greatest advantage when he is personally leading -the crew in an attack upon a difficult situation. All his powers are -well in evidence then, and not least of all his power of speech. You -have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> actual sight at such times of one of Carlyle's heroes, a "captain -of industry," to whom there are no insurmountable difficulties, no -"impossibilities," but who brings order out of chaos, by the sheer -force of indomitable energy.</p> - -<p>With this high efficiency his ignorance is in striking contrast. He -can write his name, and there his educational equipment ends. His -helplessness in the presence of figures is as pathetic and quite as -serious as is Sam the Book-keeper's. But Fitz-Adams is a young man, -barely thirty, I should say. Almost his earliest memory is that of -being a mule-driver in one of the mines near Wilkesbarre. From this he -went to picking slate in a breaker. Now he is a jobber, employing a -large crew, and undertaking contracts which involve considerable sums -of money. There has been offered to him, and it is still open, the -position of overseer in a far larger enterprise than his own, where, -personally, he would run none of the business risk; but he has confided -to me that he does not dare to accept the place owing to his lack of -even elementary education. In this connection he once asked me whether -I thought that he might yet go to school. I did think so with emphasis, -and I gave him so many reasons for this opinion, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> cited so many -examples of men as old as he and older who were at school, that he -really warmed to it as a practicable plan.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * * *</p> - -<p>The rain stopped hours ago, and it is turning very cold, and snow has -begun to fall. Fitz-Adams got back from English Centre long before -dinner, and there is evidence that he has not been drinking. I have -consulted him on the matter of leaving, and he has urged me to stay, -and has offered me permanent employment; but he says that, if I must -be off, and am bent on going westward, I would better get as far as -Hoytville as soon as possible, else I may run the risk of encountering -roads blocked with snow. Then, for the first time, he introduced the -subject of wages, and asked me what I thought was "right." I said that -before coming to the camp, I had worked for a farmer, and had been -given seventy-five cents a day and my keep; and I added that, if this -rate of wage seemed fair to him, it would suit me perfectly. He agreed -at once, and now I am a capitalist. Soon I shall set out for Hoytville, -which is, I judge, a matter of two or three hours' walk from here. -Fitz-Adams has given me careful directions about the road, and has -shown the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>deepest interest in my plan of getting West, and has urged -me to write to him.</p> - -<p>The crew are all gone to work, and I shall not see them. They were off -as soon as the storm slackened. All were keen to go, and so be spared -the misery of a day of enforced idleness, all except "Old Pete," and he -is past being keen. He is over sixty, and has a strongly marked Celtic -face, deeply furrowed with the lines of age and pain. He works with -the crew, but in camp he sits alone on the bench opposite the stove, -with the overalls and shirts hanging over him. When not at work he sits -there hour after hour, his large, muscular frame bent forward, and his -elbows resting on his knees, and there he endures, in the dumb agony of -animal pain, the torment of rheumatism in his legs. He seldom speaks, -and never of his sufferings—only sometimes in comically sententious -response to something that has interested him. And the men let him -alone, knowing by a true intuition that he prefers it so.</p> - -<p>After the rain let up I happened to pass through the lobby as the men -were starting for their work. Old Pete was the last to move. I watched -him rising slowly to his feet. In spite of him, his face drew the -picture of the hideous pain he bore, but through it shone the clear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> -courage of a man, and his eyes reflected the grim humor of a thought -that touched his native sense, and he smiled as he said:</p> - -<p>"We don't have to work; we can starve."</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * * *</p> - -<p>I have spent three Sundays in the woods. On the first I fled cravenly -into the forest, hugging a book from out my pack, and the hours flew -swiftly along the pages. The second Sunday was another glorious autumn -day. By that time I had won a modest place in camp, and could hold up -my head with due respect among the men. I asked several of them whether -there was any church service at English Centre. They thought that there -was, but they would take no stock at all in my plan of discovery.</p> - -<p>Alone I set out for the village. There was perfect quiet in the -mountains, no sound of axe or saw, nor crash of falling trees, nor -rumble of bark-wagons; only the tuneful flow and splash of the run, -which caught the living sunlight, and flashed it back in radiance -through the flushing air, that quivered in the ecstasy of buoyant -life. The fire of life flamed in the glowing hues of autumn, and -burned with white heat in the hoar-frost which clung to the shaded -crevices in the rocks, and along the blades of seared grass, and on the -fringe of fallen leaves. And I was free,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> as free and careless as the -mountain-stream, and before me was a blessed day of rest!</p> - -<p>Every foot of the road was strangely familiar, but the familiarity -lay in an intimate association with some distant past, as of earliest -childhood. There was the camp by the dam, and there the Irishman's -cabin, where the cow was still munching straw, and the sow wallowing -in the mire. Then I came to the fork in the road, where one way led to -Wolf's Run. It was a lifetime since I had gone up that way, feeling as -cocky as a wedding-guest, and soon had come down again "a sadder and -a wiser man." I felt like another Rip Van Winkle as I re-entered the -village, but the marvel lay in there being no change at all, except in -the Sunday calm which now possessed the place.</p> - -<p>The post-office is in a private house, and I knocked in some -uncertainty of being able to get my letters; but the postmistress gave -them to me with obliging readiness, and with them a cordial invitation -to attend the Sunday-school, which, she said, was the only service of -that morning. Her invitation was more welcome than she knew, for it was -the first of its kind to reach me as a proletaire.</p> - -<p>I read my letters, and then went to the church, which stands at the end -of the village street.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> The service was beginning. As superintendent -the postmistress was in charge. There were no men present. About thirty -women and girls, and half a dozen boys, made up the school. The conduct -of the service I thought intensely interesting. The superintendent was -entirely at home in her place, and she valued the opportunity.</p> - -<p>When the classes grouped themselves for the study of the lesson, a -teacher was lacking. I was asked to take the place, and was startled -at finding myself in charge of a class of village belles. What their -feeling toward the arrangement was, I could only guess; but it was -clear that they were not accustomed to being taught by an unshaven, -unshorn woodsman, in rough clothes, and boots covered with patches. But -the lesson was in my favor; it was the incident of the washing of the -disciples' feet at the last Passover. I soon forgot my embarrassment in -the interest of the text, and in an atmosphere of serious study.</p> - -<p>Last Sunday I went again to the Sunday-school, and I had my former -class to teach. Some preparation had been possible during the week, -and the hour passed successfully. Among the announcements was one of a -prayer-meeting to be held that night. </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> - -<p>I reached the church at the hour of the evening service. I opened the -door, and there sat a crowded congregation in waiting. The back seats -on both sides of the aisle were solid ranks of men, lumbermen, and -teamsters, and tannery hands, many of them in their working-clothes. -There were women and children scattered through the pews farther up, -and some boys had overflowed upon the pulpit steps, but most of the -company were men.</p> - -<p>There was no one in the minister's seat, but the postmistress was in -place at the organ, and as I entered, she nodded to me in evident -expectation of my joining her. I walked forward, and she stepped out -into the aisle to meet me.</p> - -<p>"It's time to begin," she said, quietly.</p> - -<p>"Is your minister not come yet?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you're going to speak to-night, you know."</p> - -<p>I did not know. For an instant I knew only that there was a cold, -hard grip upon my heart which seemed to hold it still, and that in my -brain there had begun a mad dance of all that I ever thought I knew. -But from out the turmoil a sane thought emerged: "This is a company -of working-people who are come to hear a fellow-workman speak to them -about our <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>deepest needs." In another moment I was cooler, and a -strange, unreasoning peace ensued.</p> - -<p>I asked the postmistress to select some hymns. She handed me a list, -chosen with perfect knowledge of those which the congregation most -enjoyed. The people were soon singing, thinly at first; but the -familiar melody spread, and carried with it a sense of solidarity, -in which self was merged and lost, and the swelling sound rolled on, -deepening with the voices of the men. Soon it recalled college-chapel, -with the students in a mood to sing, and "Ein' Feste Burg" mounting in -the majesty of that deep-toned hymn, until the vaulted ceilings rock, -and the archangels above the chancel seem to join in the splendid -volume of high praise!</p> - -<p>But more helpful to me than the singing was the sight of familiar -faces. Black Bob stood towering like another Saul above the mass of -men; and at his side was one of our teamsters who lives in the village, -and with whom I had often loaded bark. Near the door—I was not quite -sure at first, but there could be no mistake—near the door was -Fitz-Adams, and not far from him Long-nosed Harry and Phil the Farmer -stood together.</p> - -<p>I was trembling when I began to speak, trembling with awful fear, a -fear that was yet a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>solemn joy; for I had vision then of human hearts -hungering to be fed, and, as a sharer in their need, I knew that it was -given to me to point them to the Bread of Life.</p> - -<p>I could speak to them now, for with greater clearness I could see these -fellow-workers as they were—strong, brave men who win the mastery -which comes to those who clear the way for progress, giving play, in -their natural living, to the forces which make men free, and growing -strong in heart and in the will to do, as they grow strong of arm and -catch the rough cunning of their trade; men of many races, yet meeting -on the common ground of men all free and under equal chance to make -their way; knowing no differences but those of personality, and winning -their places in the crew, each man according to his kind, and his -rewards according to his skill.</p> - -<p>Such were they in their outward lives, the physical life within them -growing in living ways, and making them the true, efficient workmen -that they were. But of the inner life that makes us men, that life -wherein we act from choice, and must "give account of the deeds done in -the body," that range of action which we call moral, where conscience -speaks to us in words of command, there they knew no mastery at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> all, -and, least of all, the mastery of the moralist.</p> - -<p>To them God was a moral ruler, dwelling afar from the daily life -of men, and righteousness was a slavish obedience to His laws, and -religion a mystic somewhat which was good for women and children and -weak men.</p> - -<p>And yet deep in their own hearts was their supremest need. Life as they -knew it brought to them no satisfaction for its craving want. It was -not so in other things; they knew their work; and in the overcoming -of its difficulties, they had felt the fierce joy of conquest. But -confronted with temptations, the difficulties of their inner life, -there they had no strength; and lust and passion mastered them, and -left their real desire unsatisfied. Here, in respect of mastery, they -were slaves, and as regards life, they were dead, having only the need -of life.</p> - -<p>There, then, was their want; it was for Life, abundant, victorious Life.</p> - -<p>And now I could speak to them of God; of Him "who is not far from every -one of us, for in Him we live, and move, and have our being;" the -living God who reveals Himself in all life, and who became incarnate in -the Son of Man, and who speaks to us in human words which go straight -to our seeking hearts: "I am the way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> the truth, and the life." -"I am come that ye might have life, and that ye might have it more -abundantly." "The words that I speak unto you, they are life."</p> - -<p>"Strong Son of God!" whose living words quicken us from the death of -sin and set us free. By whose grace we are "renewed in the whole man -after His image, and enabled, more and more, to die unto sin and live -unto righteousness." Who was "made sin for us, who knew no sin; that -we might be made the righteousness of God in Him." "Who His own self -bare our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sin, -should live unto righteousness." Whose death was not a reconcilement of -God to us, but was "God in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself." -Whose Gospel is the glad tidings of this reconciliation, and we are -become "ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us; we -pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God."</p> - -<p>And then we prayed, confessing our sinful state, our bondage, our death -in sin, and pleading that we might be "transformed by the renewing of -our minds, that we might prove what is that good, and acceptable, and -perfect will of God."</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * * * * *</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now that I am on the eve of leaving Fitz-Adams's Camp, I cannot hide -from myself my eagerness to go. I have real regrets; for while two -weeks and as many days do not constitute a long period, yet time is -purely relative, and I shall have a livelier memory of the camp and -of certain of the men, and a keener interest in them, than I have for -places and men with whom my association has been much longer.</p> - -<p>But of the feelings of which I am conscious at leaving, I am surprised -at the intensity of the longing to know what has happened during the -three weeks, nearly, since I have seen a newspaper from the great -world. I thought little of it as the days passed, but now I am all -aglow with desire for news about the progress of the campaigns in New -York and Massachusetts and Ohio. And then the last word from abroad -had piqued one's curiosity to the utmost as to possible results. Mr. -Smith, the leader of the House of Commons, I know is dead; and as I was -leaving Williamsport for the woods, I saw upon the bulletin-boards the -announcement of Mr. Parnell's sudden death; but of the political effect -of these events no word has reached me. Has Mr. Balfour or Mr. Goschen -succeeded to the leadership of the House? And if Mr. Balfour became the -First Lord of the Treasury, does<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> he retain the Chief Secretaryship -for Ireland? And has the death of Mr. Parnell brought about a reunion -between Parnellites and. M'Carthyites, or is the breach as hopeless as -ever?</p> - -<p>It will be intensely interesting to find answers to these questions and -to many more; but after all I am sincerely sorry to leave the camp, -and as I go up now to say good-by to Fitz-Adams, who is in his office, -it is with the knowledge that I am parting from a man whom it is an -inspiration to have known.</p> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/ad1.jpg" alt="The Works The East" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<div class="center"><img src="images/ad2.jpg" alt="The Works The West" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pgx" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKERS***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 64400-h.htm or 64400-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/4/4/0/64400">http://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/4/0/64400</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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